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Barnfield, Richard
Poems

Cfje

Edited by EDWARD ARBER,

HON. FELLOW OF KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON; F.S. A., ETC.

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH 1 BTD LITERATURE,

SIR JOS I A II MASON'S COLLEGE, BIRMINGHAM.

RICHARD BARNFIELD

OEMS.

1594-1598.

Only to be obtained by postal application to E. ARBER, at

I, MONTAGUE ROAD, 1; I U M I N (I II A M.
. 14. ^5 August, i88z.

Three Shillings.

{CHILWRTU & LONDON.

my Godfathers in English Literature,
HENRY MORLEY, ESQ., LL.D.

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE,

UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDOX.

HENRY'PYNE, ESQ.,

Late ASSISTA.\7T TITHE COMMISSIONER,

ST. JAMES'S SQUARE, LONDON.

this

fflHD Series;

IS,

witft blended admiration and gratitude^
filially

CI)e Cngltslj ^olav'g Hibrarp.

No. 14.

D's Poems.

1594-1598.

Clje (EngUjSl) |s>cljolar0 libratp.

RICHARD BARNFIELD,

of Darlaston, Staffordshire, Esquire.

Poems.

1594-1598.

Edited by E D W A R I ) A R H E K . -

tro.v. FELLoiy OF KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON; F.S.A.,

•P R O F F. S S O R OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE,

siiR JOSIAH MASON'S COLLEGE, UIKMINGHAM.

i, MONTAGUE ROAD, BIRMINGHAM.
15 August, i88z.

No. 14.
(All rights r<!ierve</.)

C O N T E N T S .

PAC;E
Bibliography ... ... ... ... ... ... ... vii

First Lines of Poems and Stanzas ... ... ...... viii-x

INTRODUCTION xi-xxiv

The Affectionate Shepheard. Containing the
Complaint of Daphnis for the lone of
Ganymede .... .... .... .... .... i

[" Nothing else, but an imitation of Virgill, in the
second Egologue of Alexis? p. 44.]

Daphnis \BARNFIELD\ Verse- Dedication to Lady Penelope

Rich (Sir PHILIP SIDNEY'S STELLA) 3

The Teares of an affectionate Shepheard sicke for
Loue. Or The Complaint of Daphnis for the
Loue of Ganimcdc ... ... ... ... 5-24

The Second Dayes Lamentation of the Affectionate Shep
heard ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 12-24

The Shepherds Content or the happines of a harmless life ... 25-33
Sonnet ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 34

The Complaint of Chastitie, &c 35~37

Hellens Rape, or a light Lanthorne for light Ladies. Written

in English Hexameters 38-40

Cynthia. With certainc Sonnets, and the

Legend of Cassandra .... .... .... 41-80

Dedication to the Earle of Darby ... ... ... ... 43

To the curteous Gentlemen Readers ... ... ... ... 44

T. T. in commendation of the Authour his work?. 45

[R. BARNFIELD] To his Mistresse 46

Cynthia 47-52

[Sonnets^1 53-63

An Ode 64-66

Cassandra 67-80

ENG. Sen. Lin. No. 14. I*"

CONTENT s .

The Encomion of Lady Pecunia : or The

praise of Money 81-93

To the Gentlemen Readers 83-84

The prayse of Lady Pecunia 85-93

His Prayer to Pecunia 93

The Complaint of Poetrie, for the Death of

Liberalise '/.I 95~IO5

Verse-Dedication to Master Edward Leigh, of Grayes Inne 97
The Complaint of Poetrie, for the Death of

Liberalise ... ^. . 98-105

The Combat, betweene Conscience and Co2tetous-

nesse, in the minde of Man 107-114

Verse-Dedication to Maister lohn Steuenton, of Dothill, in

the County of Salop, Esquire 109

The Combat betweene Conscience and Couetous-

nesse in the mind of Man 110-114

Poems : in diners humours 115-124

Verse-Dedication to Master Nicholas Blackleech, of Grayes

Inne ... ... ... ... ... ... 117

Sonnet I. To his friend Maister R. L. In praise of Mnsique

and Poetrie 118

Sonnet II. Against the Dispraysers of Poetrie ... ... 119

A Remembrance of some English Poets ... ... ... 119-120

An Ode ... ... ... ... ... ... 120-121

Written, at the Request of a Gentleman, vnder a Gentle
woman's Picture 122

An Epitaph vpon the Death, of Sir Philip Sidney, Knight 122
An Epitapth vpon the Death of his Aunt, Mistresse Elizabeth

Skrymsher ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 123

A Comparison of the Life of Man ... ... ... ... 124

B IB L 10 G R AP HY.
A. The Affectionate Shepheard, &c., by itself.

1. [November] 1594. London, 4to. See title at p. I. The month is fixed by

the passage on /. 44. Not entered at Stationers' Hall.
Two copies known ; at Sion College and Brit well.

7. 1842. London, 8vo. Percy Society. Vol. 20. Edited by J. O. HALLIWELL-

PHILLIPPS, Esq., F.R.S.

B. Cynthia, <5v., by itself.

2. [January] 1595. London, 8vo. See title at /. 41. Entered at Stationers'

Hall on I7th January, 1595. Transcript, ii. 669. Ed. 1875.
The only copy is in the Bodleian Library, Malone's books.

6. 1841. Ryde, Isle of Wight, I2ino. Keldornie Press. Printed by Mr. E. V.
Vrrv.RSON, who states that he had never seen the Affec
tionate Shcpheard.

An impression of 16 copies only.

C. The Encomion of Lady Pecunia, £fc., by itself.

3. 1598. London, 4to. See title at /. 81, and sub-titles at //. 95, 107, and 115.

Not entered at Stationers' Hall. One copy known.

4. 1605. London, 410. Newly corrected and enlarged by RICHARD BARNFIELD,

Graduate in Oxford. Two copies known. There are
variations from the first edition in this text. Dr. GEORGE
KINGSLEY has been good enough to verify the fresh Dedi
cation of this new edition at /. 84, from the Bridgewater
House copy.

A manuscript transcript of this edition is in Ashmolean
MS. 1153, at Oxford.

5. 1816. Auchinleck, Dumfriesshire, 410. Roxburghe Club. A facsimile im

pression of 35 copies printed by JAMES SUTHERLAND, for
ALEXANDER BOSWELL ; and presented by his brother,
JAMES BOSWELL, to the Roxburghe Club. B. M. 8104/4.
A copy of the text only of this reprint is in the British
Museum, 1077. e. II.

8. 1866. [Maidenhead] 4to. Illustrations of old English Literature, i. Edited

by J. PAYNE COLLIER, Esq., F.S.A. An impression of
50 copies.

D. The three Collections of Poems together.

9. 1876. London, 410. Roxburghe Club. The Complete Poems. Edited with

Introduction and Notes, by the Rev. ALEXANDER B.
GROSART, LL.D. About 40 copies printed.

This edition also includes a reprint of the I sham MS., which " is a small paper
book of eighteen leaves, within a vellum skin," in the possession of Sir CHARLES
II. ISHAM, Lamport Hall, Northampton. Some of the lines in this common
place book may be by BARNFIELD.

Dr. GROSART also gives the poem from England's Helicon, which he thinks may
also be by BARNFIELD.

See also Dr. GROSART'S 5o-copy reprint of SAMUEL NICHOLSON'S ACOLASTVS
his Aftcr-witte, for possible imitations of BARNFIELD.

10. 15 August, 1882. Birmingham, Svo. The present impression.

Vlll

FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS.

PAGE

A CANDLE light, and ... 16

PAGE

And with this sentence 51

PAGE

But what talke I of 87

Admit thou come, into... 88

And yet the siluer-noted 18

But when the Worlde ... 86

Againe, we read of old... 15

Another while he wooes 30

But who can Hue with ... 99

Against my Birth-day >. 14

A paire of Kniues, a 14

But who can shun the... 75

A guilded Nutmeg, and 14

Apply thy minde to be 21

But yet shee rather 37

Ah be notstained 17

As for example, in the.. 19

By thee great Collin... 31

Ah fairest Ganymede ... 60

As for the young man ... 87

By this the form Dst 49

Ah, little knew Matilda 36

A Shepheard loues no ... 32

Bythis, the Night 24

Ah no ; nor I my selfe : 62

As it fell vpon a Day ... 120

By this, young Phoebus 67

Ah therefore be not 70

Aye mee (distressed 113

CHAUCER is dead ; and 119

Alas poore Conscience ... 112

Cherry-lipt Adonis in ... 61

Alas (the while) that 7

BE[A]UTY and Maiesty 54

Compare the Cow and... 18-

All these, and more 10

Behold my grey head.... 23

Compare the loue of n

All which he eloquently 69

Be not beguild with 21

Compare the Wyld-cat... 19.

Also if any proue a 30
A nd albeit the gift be ... 3

Be not offensiue to the... 21
Be patient in extreame... 23

DEEPE-wounding Arrow 31

And ahvaies (I am sure) n

Betwixt amaze and 72

Diana (on a time) 57

And as the Coyne, she... 91
And at the same time ... 6

Bo nnty looke backe 102
Bright Starre of Beauty 46

Downe in a Dale, hard 48
Downe sliding from that 45

And Bounty, though her 105

Bugle and leat, with ... 19

EUEN as a counterfeited 112

And Daniell, praised for 119
And Dray ton, whose ... 119

But ah (alas) how can ... 46
But ah (alas) my Teares 104

Euen as Apelles could ... 122
Euen as the Sunne 101

And euery Morne by ... 8

But ah, she cannot (or... 105

And (for thy sake) this... 72

But as the woefull 104

FAINE would she haue 78

And from her luory 67

But (Bounty) if thou ... 102

Faire-long-haire- wearing 15

And hauing both their... 6

But faire Pecunia 89

Faire Penthesilea th' ... 63

And hearing; that her ... 74

But her an Old-Man 6

Faire Philomela, cease 100

And herein happie, I ... 102

But if the first did 76

Farre be it from my 75

And if he so escape with 28

But if thou wilt not n

Fayre lonely Ladie ... 3

And in the sweltring S

But if you want your ... 88

Fie on ambition, fie on 79

And last of all, if any ... 30

But I that lou'd thee for u

First he ordaines by Act 29

And last of all, in blacke 30

But I, whose hope is ... 103

First, in a royall Chaire 48

And manie thousand ... 10

But leaue we him in 7

Fond Loue is blinde ... 16

And meaning now to ... 70

But let mee feele the... 32

Fond Wretch, it was not 113

And Shakespeare 1 20

But Lileralitie is dead 99

For as by death, her 80

And sith there dies no ... 103

But not preuailing 74

For her, the Merchant... 88

(And tells her softly in... 69

But now good-fortune ... 33

For her, the Gentleman 88

And thou art shee, O ... 90

But now my Muse 63

For if we doo consider... 19

An*d though I cannot ... 46

But now to her, whose... 91

For pledge that I am ... 77

And thou loue-hating... 23

But now vnto her 88

For when his stately 15

And thou loue-scorning 12

But she no sooner had... 71

For why against the 86

And thou Melpomene ... 100
And thou my sweete... 29

But sleepe his soule in... 29
But sure it is not 102

GODDESSE of Golde 85

And thus it hapned 6

But this braue generall 75

Great Lady, sith I haue 93

And to conclude, the ... 51

But to Cassandra now 73

Great was the mone ... 73

And when he hath her 87

But to returne to these... 75

HAD I the sweet 92

And when it pleaseth ... 8

But what care they 87

Happy are they, that ... 79

And when th'art wearie 13 But what? (fond man) 76

He and Cassandra now 77

FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS.

PAGE

Heare Shepheards oft ... 22

PAGE

Liue Sjt-usereuer, in ... 119

PAGE

Or if thou list to bathe... 9

Hee briefly t'her relates

Loe here beholde the ...

123

Or if thou dar'st to

Hee intertaines her

Loe here behold these ...

Or if thou lou'st to heare

Hee needes not feare ...

3 7 Long haue I long'd to ...

Or if thoult goe vnto...

Heerewith awaking

72 Looke how a brightsome

Or if thou wilt goe

»3

He is a Courtier, for he

33 Lonely a Lasse, so

Or in a mystic morning

He is not troubled with

3- Lyke to an other

Or when bad subiects ...

He leads his Wench a...

31 MANS life is well ....

Or with Hare-pypes

He (noble Lord)

124

_/:

Or wilt thou drinke a...

Here ended shee ; and..
Here, hold this gloue ...

79 My hand, to helpe mee
60

3°

103

O that my Teares could
O that Nobilitie, it selfe

105

101

Here, on love's altar

34 NAY more for money ...

O who can comfort my...

Here-with, as weary of...

80 Nay more than this

O who can then

Here-with she blushin0"

70 Nere-waining

He sits all Day

29 Neuer asraine. shall I ...

43
IOO

PRAISE not thy selfe, let

Him leaue me (for a

New Coyne is coynd ...

Pride looks aloft, still ...

His luory-white and ...
How happie were a

5 Next Morning when the
32 Nights were short, and

QUEENE of my thoughts

How on the Seas he

76 No Briefes nor . .

RAYS'D from the cynders

Humillity in misery is...

17 No flocke of sheepe, but

Remember Age, and ...

»7

Humidity is clad in

17 Nor is the Derth of

104

Restrain thy steps from

Not faire, Adonis in his

Right Diamonds are of

I DEEMED so ; nor was I
If chafed on thy haire ...
If it be sinne to loue a...
If Musique and sweet ...
If Pythias death, of
If thou wilt come and :..

49
90

5
118
103

Not faire H<esione
Not Megabytes nor
Not proud Alcynons ...
Not th'hungry Lyon ...
Now doth he stroke
Now had the poore-mans

91
62
9
7i
7.
79

SALMON and Trout are...
Scarce had Apollo
Scarce had the morning
Scarce had the Syren ..
Scarce was the louely ...
Scarce were these

68
5
77
74

If thou wilt loue me
If wealth? Why

Now had the cole-blacke
Now is she ioylesse

Sell thy sweet breath to

I haue a pleasant noted

Now nimbly to his ...

Serue loue (vpon thy ...

I liu'd (quoth she) to see

79 Now silent night drew...

She wakes the lecher ...

I loued once, (quoth hee)

69 Now sleepeth shee

She, weepes ; he, wooes

Image of that, whose ...
Impartial! /'area", will...

97 Now was the Welkyn ...
105 Now with a trice he

47
68

Sighing, and sadly
Siluer and Golde, and ...

58
90

I neuer then, did write

Sith Conscience (long ...

109

Innumerable be the

2Q O ADULA TJO.V, Canker

101

So Cyt/iertea would

105

In 1'an repose thy trust
Insteedeof teares, he ...

Obtaine a faithfull frend
g O fading Branches of ...

So darke the dungeon ...
Some Courtiers carefull

78
27

In Woterne world amids

O faire Boy trust not to

Some talke of Ganymede

In which delight feeding
I promis'd wealth

49
50
85
50

Ofaire-foule .tincture...
O fairest, faire, aboue ...
Ofallthekindesof
O glorious Sunne quoth

35
68
25

Sometimes I wish that...
Speake Eccho, tell
Sporting at fancie
Sporting our selues to ...

57
59
53
49

I sing not of Angellica
I spi'd him first, and ...

It is reported of faire ...
I would put amber

55
3

Oh cruell Fortune
Oh cruell Parcac

78
76

Sweare no vaine oathes
Sweet Corrall lips

21
56

Oh foule Eclipser of

Sweet Thames I honour

KING Pry am dead and

Oh how the Troyan

SYDNEY. The Syren

Oh lend thine yuorie ...

LEARNE of the

Oh then be humble

TAKE not a flattring

•22

Leaue Guciidolen

Oh then be not so proud

Terence describeth

102

Leaue wicked things ...

Oh would I were, as

105

That England lost, that

122

Led by the swift report

Oh would shee would ...

The Courtier he fawn's

Lie there (quoth shee)...

Oh would to God he

The day shall come

Lift vp thy head, thou...

On th'other side, aboue

The greater that I feele

101

Like a great King he ...

Or if one stray to feede

The hardest steele with

FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS.

I'AGE

The iuyce of grapes 93
The Knight, the Squire 27
The learned Sisters 20
The losse of her, is loose 104
The maimed Souldier ... 104
The Meane is best, and 85
The Merchants wife 103
The mightie Monarch ... 26
The more I weepe, the 32
Then call'd he vp the ... 52
Then how can 1 93

PAGE

This is my Doome 37
This leare I learned of... 23
This said Apollo then 73
This said : he sweetly ... 70
This was the doting 7
This was that faire and 7
Thou dost entice the... 36
Thou lazie man 47
Thoushalt (indeede) 72
Thou Venus, art my 50
Thou wast the Nurse ... 100

I'AGK

What faemale now 36
What man, hath lately... 100
What shall I say to thee 36
What, ten-yeeres siedge 74
What Thing is then, so 89,
What though with 31
When I poore forelorne 24
When loe, Cassandra 72
When nothing could 89
When Saturnc liu'd 86
When will my May ii

Then how shall I ' 92
Then shouldst thou 8
Then sith by mee, their 99
Then, sith the Pope is ... 92
Then Teares (if thou be 34
Then will I lay out all... 14
The Painful 28
The peoples ioies 77
The Pinke, the 10
The Qneenc of harts 90
There are so manie 33

Thus as they wandred ... 6
Thus doo I honour thee ii
Thus doth he frollicke it 31
Thus doth he keepe 30
Thus euerie man is 28
Thus haue I shew'd the 50
Thus haue I showed in 33
Thus is he neuer fulJ ... 26
Thus, sacred Virgin ... 52
Thus was my loue, thus 58
Thus with the Worlde ... 86

Where is Mecarnas 99.
Whether yee list, to 92:
Which charge to him no 69
Which done: relying on 71
Which saying to be true 75
Which with Quick 90
White is the colour of ... 20
Who would not then a... 33
Why doo thy Corall lips 15
Whylom that in a 45
Why should thy sweete 15

Therefore as one, whose 102
There growes the 10
There might one see ... 48
These two examples by 13
The Skilful Scholler ... 27
The snow is white, and 18
The Stoicks thinke 54
The tenor of which tale 69

Thy tyme was once 90
To what vse serues a ... 19
To you that know the ... 117
Two stars there are in ... 55

VILE Anarice, why hast 103
Vile Auaricia, how 98
Vpon a gorgious gold ... 67
Vpon a time the 6

Which when Aurora ... 73
Wilt thou set springes in 13
With her, the Tenant ... 93
With patience, haue I ... in
Witnesse the trade of ... 89
Witnes these watrie eyes 12
Wit without wealth is ... 51
VVoon with thy words 70

The Trees (for sorrowe) 100
The Tyme was once 89
The youn^ man 86

Vpon a time, the craftie 101
Vpon his head he wore a 68
Vse not thy louely lips... 22

YEA what more iS-
Yet famous Sabrine on 73
Yet if thou wilt but 13

The wealthie Merchant 27
The whitest siluer is 18
The whylst the other ... 26
TheWifeof/f«rt»r 104
Thinke on thy graue ... 22

WEEPE Heauens now ... 98
Weepe still mine eies ... 101
Well is he tearmd a 27
What can thy hart 88

Yet not so softly but 67
Yet (O Enthraller of 32
Yet would I wish, the ... 92
You modest Dames ....:. 35
You, you alone, can 89.

INTRODUCTION.

ONSIDERING the way in which his name has been
associated with that of SHAKESPEARE ; it is a strange
thing that the present should be the first public
reprint of BARNFIELD'S Poems ever made.

During this century, as will be seen from the
Bibliography at p. vii., several limited editions
(chiefly of some 16, 35, 40, or 50 copies each) have
been produced of one or other of his three Collec
tions of Poems : all the copies of all which impres
sions would barely number 400 ; and being for the

most part privately printed, they are not now obtainable for either love or

money. And, even if they were obtainable, it would be found that some

of their texts were intentionally imperfect.

Dr. GROSART'S edition of 1876 is notable, among other things, as being

the first collected edition put forth, either by BARNFIELD or any one else,

of these Poems.

1 1.

RE confused ignorance prevailing respecting BARNFIELD'S
life before Dr. GROSART'S researches recovered the registries
of his birth and death with a copy of his Will, may be seen
in so recent a Work, as the last edition of T. WARTON'S
History of English Poetry, iv. 290, 436-440. Ed. 1871.
It may therefore be desirable to give here, the few undoubted facts that
are, at present, known about him.

The Rev. T. BURNE, M.A., Rector of Norbury, near Newport, Shrop
shire, has most obligingly verified the following entries in the Register of
that parish : —

1. Of the marriage of our Poet's parents.

RICHARDUS BARNEFIELD et MARIA SKRIMSHER matri.
contraxere Aprillis xvi. [1572].

2. Of our Poet's birth.

RICARDUS BARNEFIELD baptizatus fuit die mensis
[June] xiii. 1574.

Xll

IN T R O D U C 7V 0 2V.

3. Of the death of his mother, at the birth of his sister DOROTHEA,
when our Poet was six years old.

DOROTHEA BARNEFIELD filia RICARDI BARNEFIELD
baptizata fuit Martii xxv. [1581] .
MARIA BARNEFIELD sepulta fuit die mensis
p[rae]d[icto] xxii°

As Dr. GROSART has mentioned, the above names may be read
BARNEFIELD.

It is clear from the poem at p. 123, that his aunt, ELIZABETH SKRIM-
SHER, became a second mother to the young boy ; and that he ever felt
grateful to her.

MALONE contributed the following to BOSWELL'S presentation edition
of Lady Pecunia, of 1816.

Braze Nose Coll. November 27, 1589.

Richard Barnfield, Stafford, gen. fit. cetat. 15.
Matriculated. Regtm. Universitat Oxon.

WOOD took no notice of BARNFIELD. Dr. BLISS (in the life of our
Poet supplied by him to his edition of the Athena Oxonienses, i. 683. Ed.
1813) states that BARNFIELD took his B.A. degree 5 February, 1592 ;
giving as his authority, MS. Gough, in Eibl. Bodl. Oxon. I : adding :

"And in the following Lent [1592] performed the exercise for his
master's gown ; to which, however, I cannot find that he was ever ad
mitted. Certain it is, that he did not take this degree previous to the year
1600, as his name does not occur in the Register of Congregation, which
is very perfect and regular about that period."

The exact reference is Gotigtts MSS. (Oxfordshire} i* p. 204 : but a
better authority for the degree, is WOOD'S own transcript (MS. F. 14),
sub anno, where he writes the name RICHARD BARIFIELD.

It has been thought that our Poet when he came to London, entered
Gray's Inn : but his name does not occur in the Index of Admittances
covering his lifetime, now Harl. MS. 1912.

He was evidently the friend of THOMAS WATSON ; of whom he thus
writes, at p. 29,

And thou my sweete Amintas vertuous minde,
Should I forget thy Learning or thy Loue ;
Well might I be accounted but vnkinde,
Whose pure affection I so oft did proue :
Might my poore Plaints hard stones to pitty moue ;
His losse should be lamented of each Creature,
So great his Name, so gentle was his Nature.

In November, 1594, at. 20, appeared The Affectionate Shepheard.
In the following January, 1595, at. 21, the Cynthia was published.
In 1598, at. 25, he issued The Encomion of Lady Pecunia, a quotation

INTRODUCTION. xiii

from which is made, in the September of that year, by FRANCIS MERES,
in his Palladis Tamia ; who in the following passage calls him \a& friend.

As Theocritus in Greeke, Virgil and Mantuan in Latine, San-
nazar in Italian, and [Thomas Watson] the Author of Amintcz
Gaudia and Walsinghams Melibceus are the best for Pastoral :
so amongst vs the best in this kind are Sir Philip Sidney, Master
Challoner, Spenser, Stephen Gosson, Abraham- Fraunce, and
Barnfield.

As noble Mezcenas that sprang from the Etruscan Kings, not
only graced poets by his bounty, but also by being a poet
himself; and as James VI., now King of Scotland, is not only
a favourer of poets, but a poet ; as my friend Master Richard
Barnfield hath in this distich passing well recorded,

The King of Scots now living is a poet,

As his Lepanto and his Furies show it [see p. 119].

so Elizabeth, our dread Sovereign and gracious Queen. . . .

In 1605, BARNFIELD, <zt. 31, put forth a new and altered edition of
Lady Pecunia : and from this time, apparently, ceased to publish any
thing ; probably living the life of a country gentleman in Staffordshire.

In this second Edition of 1605, seven fresh Stanzas, suggested by the
new King that had come to the throne, are inserted after the Stanzas
which appear on p. 91 of this edition : viz., the five following after

JSfo garden can be cleansd of euery Weede.

But now more Angels than on Earth yet weare
Her golden Impresse; haue to Heauen attended
Hir Virgin-soule ; now, now she soiornes there,
Tasting more ioyes then may be comprehended.
Life, she hath changde for life (oh countless gaine)
An earthlie rule, for an eternall Raigne.

Such a Successor leauing in her stead,
So peerlesse worthie, and so Royall wise ;
In him her vertues Hue, though she be dead :
Bountie and zeale, in him both soueranize.
To him alone, Pecunia doth obay,
He ruling her, that doth all others sway.

xiv INTRODUCTION.

Bounty, that when she sickned, cras'd and fainted,.

And when she left the earth had almost died ;

Hoping with her, in heauen to haue bin sainted,

And 'mongst' the rest an Angels place supplyed :
The King hath cherisht, and his life assured,
And of a long consumption, Bounti 's cured.

Plenty and Peace vpon his Throne attend,
Health and Content, vpon his person wait :
Conquest and Fame, his Royaltie defend,
May all good Planets smile vpon his state.
By whom all-drooping-vertues are reuiued,
And dying-Bounty, made againe long liued.

The hand of Heauen still take him to his keeping-,.
Him, in no danger, in no doubt forsaking;
A thousand of his Angels guarde him sleeping,.
And all the hoast of heauen protect him waking-.
That he in safety, peace and rest, may raigne,
whilst the two Poles, the frame of heuen sustain-
Then another, the sixth, after
But charms the eare, with heauenly Harmonie.

Stand forth who can and tell, and true lie saie

When England, Scotland, Ireland and France,

He euer saw Pecunia to displaie

Before these daies ; O wondrous happie chance.
Nor doth Pecunia onelie please the eie,
But charmes the eare, with heauenlie harmony-

And a seventh after
Yet is it worth but Nine-pence, at the most.

/ Ar T K 0 D U C T I 0 A'. XV

But Ireland alone, this Musicks sound
Being clad in Siluer, challenge for their coin
What though amongst vs much thereof be found
Authoritie, no subject dooth inioyne

Aboue his worth to countenance the same,
Then men, not coin, are worthy of that blame.

BARNFIELD died at the early age of 52, leaving, as his will shews, a son
and grandchild.

Thanks to Dr. GROSART, we know the year of his death ; of which the
following record in the Register of St. Michael's, Stone, has been most
kindly compared once more with the original, by the Rev. W. W.
BAYLISS, M.A., Vicar of that parish.

Nonima eorum qui sepulii erant Anno Domini 1626.
[i.e., between 25 March, 1626, and 24 March, 1627.]

Then after about thirty entries, we have the following one :

Richardus Barnefield generosus sepultus
fuit Sexto Die Martij Anno supradicto.

Then comes one more entry : after which we have the following official
signatures for the year :

BARNABAS WILLATT Minister.

JAMES TILL \
THOMAS AMBERYE rk«w* ^j<^

ROGER BRADBURYE Churchwardens.

CHRISTOPHER BUTTON)

We have personally inspected our Poet's Will, in the District Probate
Court at Lichfield. It is Number 57, of anno 1627, and is, line for line,
as follows :

In the name of god Amen the xxvjth Daye
februarie in the yeares of the Raigne of our
Soveraigne lord CHARLES by the grace of
god of England Scotland ffrance and
Ireland kinge Defender of the faith &c
Anno Dom. 1626 [i.e., 1627]. x

I RICHARD BARNFIELD of Dorlestone in the Countie
of Stafford Esquire sick in bodie but of perfecte Remem
brance make this my last will and testament
in manner and fforme ffollowinge / ffirst I bequeath

XVI

I NT R 0 D U C T I 0 N .

my soule to Almightie god my Creator and maker
and my Bodie to be buried in the parishe Church of
Stone in the said Countie in full hope of
of salvation and of a ioyfull Resurrectione thrught
Christ my onelie Saviour, and as _ concerninge
my worldlie goodes my will and mind is that
Master JOHN SKRIMSHER of Norburie Esquier his
wife and sonne shall haue iijli beinge equallie
Devided betwixt them, Item I giue to Master
HENERIE HOCKENGULL my peece, Dagg, one Beddsteed
one table, my best sadle and bridle, Item I giue
to Mistris HOCKENGULL xxs. Item I giue to CHARLES
SKRIMSHER and GERRATE SKRIMSHER ether of
them xxs. Item I giue to mistris ELENOR
SKRIMSHER xxs. Item I giue to SARIE BOEYER
xxs. Item I giue to ELIZABETH SKRIMSHER xxs.
and alsoe one gould Ringe Item I giue to
MARTHA xxs. and my gilte spoone Item I
giue to GRIESELL SKRIMSHER xxs. Item I
giue my gran[djchilde JANE BARNEFEILD a gilte
saulte which was MICHILL OFFELEYCS if hee
Doe not Redeeme the same in some short tyme
But .if hee Doe Redeeme it shee shall haue the
whole xjli that he Doth owe me Item I giue
to master MARTIN xs. Item I giue to my man
RICHARD COTTERALL xls. my hare coulred sute
and Cloake and xs. that I owe him, Item
I giue to mistris DOODIE my Truckle bedd Item
I giue to my Cozen RANFORDE my tow best
sutes, Item I giue MARGARET RICHARSONE my
goune and xs. Item I giue GEORGE HILL my ould
servant my other sadle and Bridle, Item I
giue to euerie servant in the house xi']d. Item
I leaue vli. to bestowe of a Dinner at my
Buriall Item I giue to the poore of Darlestone
xijd a peece Item I give to the poor of Stone
xls. Item I give to JOHN GOODALE of
waulton my blue breeches and friese Jerkine
Item I giue to my sonne master ROBERT BARNE-
FIELD xxs. Item the Residue of my goodes
beinge vnbequeathed, I giue to master ROBERT

I N T R 0 D U C T I 0 N . xvil

BARNEFIELD and mistris ELINOR SKRIMSHER
whome I leaue my sole Executors of this
my last will and testament In witness
whereof the Daie and yeare aboue written
I have putt my hand and scale

Sealed and subscribed in R.

presence Of VS [Initial only.]

Henry hockengull
Thomas Daintry

Richard Cotterell

Probate was granted ELEANOR SKRIMSHER, on yth April, 1627. With
the Will is the following Inventory :

John Doodie A true and perfecte Inventorie of all

Richard Challenor. the goodes of RICHARD BARNEFEILD esquire
~7 ^ . Deceased [apjpraysed th xvth Daie of

1 liomas JJaintery. March 4mw£>cmmii 6 26[t.e.i62'j]by JOHN
PETER SERIEANTES DOODIE RICHARD CHALLENOR THOMAS
his X mark. DAINTREY PETER SERIEANTE/

It[em] my tuw beddsteds vjs viijd

item one flockbedd iijs iiijrf

item one bedd one boulster one pillowe
one coverlid one cadware and three
blankettes iij//

item nine sheetes three pillowberes [pillow

slips] and one Towell xxjs

item fo[u]re shirtes xiijs iiijrf

item Caps iiijs

item bandes cuffes handcarches and sockes xs

item stockens garters and sockes xs

item gloues ijs v']d

item all his w[e]aringe apperell xli

item tow sadd[l]es and bridles xs

item his bookes • xs

item one giult sault and spoone \li

item all his glasses iiijs

XV111

I N 7^ R 0 D U C T I 0 N.

item pewter [i.e., vessels &c.] vijs

item three chestes one deske boxes and table xiijs u\]d

item warminge pan and one close stoole vjs viijd

item fireshovell tonges and grate js

item bootes shooes and slipers xs

item one locke and fetters js

item one peece and pistoll xiijs i\\]d

item one brush and one cushen js vjd

item in moneyes xl[W] xvijs i\]d

Some Ixvjli xvs lid

[or rather £66 $s. i id.]

III.

F THE four editions of his three Collections of Poems issued
in BARNFIELD'S lifetime, only six copies in all are now
known to exist, viz., of

The Affectionate Shcpkeard 1594. Two copies ; at Britwell.and in Sion

College, London.

Cynthia 1595- One copy, in the Bodleian Library.

The Encomion of\ (ist Ed.) 1598. One copy, in the Bodleian Library.

Lady Pecunia \ (2nd Ed.) 1605. Two copies, at Bridgewater House,

and the imperfect one in the Bod
leian.

It is probably owing to this extraordinary scarcity of the original
copies, that BARN FIELD has made so little impression upon posterity
(the Passionate Pilgrim matter apart) ; and has been looked upon as one
of our most out-of.the-way Poets.

The notices of our Author, in the first two centuries after his death,
appear to have been but few and far between.

EDWARD PHILLIPS omitted our Author in his List of Modern Poets in
his Theatrum Poetarum : but in the Supplement thereof, says

Richard Barnfield, one of the same Rank in Poetry with
Doctor Lodge, Robert Green, Nicholas Breton, and other
Contemporaries already mention'd in the foregoing Treatise
of the Moderns. p. 231. Ed. 1675.

THOMAS WARTON thought our Poet to be

One of the most prominent of the minor literary luminaries
of the age of Elizabeth. But as BARNFIELD'S writings have
more than an ordinary share of merit, and as his name has

I N T R O D U C T I O AT . XIX

been associated, in a manner which could not be but flattering
to his memory, with that of SHAKESPEARE, it seemed to be
desirable to introduce in the -present pages a somewhat
more copious account of this author and his works. Such
a tribute to the memory of BARNFIELD seemed to be due to
one who, of all the minor poets of ELIZABETH'S reign, may
perhaps be fairly regarded as occupying the first place.

The most remarkable feature about BARNFIELD is, that an
author of such undoubted genius should have so little courted
publicity. In his earliest production, the Affectionate Shep-
heard, 1594, his name nowhere appears [but the authorship was
avowed in the Cynthia ; see p. 44] ; and all his works were
ushered unostentatiously into the world without encomiastic
verses by acquaintances or admirers, and with dedications
prompted, so far as one can judge, by friendship or affection,
rather than by the sense of interest or the desire to flatter.
History of English Poetry, \\.pp. 436, 7. Ed. 1871.

Then follows the confusedaccount above referred to; after which comes :

A collected edition of BARNFIELD'S surviving works is a
want in English literature, and would only form an appropriate
and deserved tribute to the genius of so graceful and so
neglected a poet. p. 439. idem.

No author, whom we could name, has fairer pretensions to
be regarded as a writer of genuine, untainted vernacular
English. p. 440. idem.

I V.

HE association of BARNFIELD'S name with that of SHAKES
PEARE (which has been the principal reason, hitherto, of his
name being kept in remembrance) has arisen from W.
JAGGARD'S including

the Sonnet If Musiqne and sweet Poetrie agree, at/>. 118,
andtheOde As it fell upon a Day t at p. 120.

in The passionate Pilgrim, 1599; and from his placing on the title-page of
that Collection, the words, By W. SHAKESPEARE. The Staffordshire
poet being 25, and the Warwickshire poet 35 in that year.

Mr. J. P. COLLIER, F.S.A., has advocated first the BARNFIELD author
ship of these poems, and then that of SHAKESPEARE. His several
arguments on both sides, are duly recorded by Dr. GROSART. in his
edition of our Poet above referred to.

The opinion of the best scholars is generally for the BARNFIELD

I N T R O D U C T I O N.

authorship ; whose claims Mr. CHARLES EDMONDS has especially vindi
cated at length from the objections of Mr. COLLIER in the Preface to his
reprint of the I sham copy of The Passionate Pilgrim, in 1870.

It may, however, be as well, on the occasion of this reimpression,
briefly to summarize the proofs of BARNFIELD being the author of these
poems : observing that the claim is, in either case, for both poems
together, and not for either of them.

i. That BARNFIELD was not the man to steal any one else:s poems is
evident from the following modest disclaimer, at p, 44, of works which
had wrongly been attributed to him.

Howsoeuer undeseruedly (I protest) I baue beene thought
(of some) to haue beene the authour of two Books heretofore.
I neede not to name them, because they are two-well knowne
already : nor will I deny them, because they are dislik't ; but
because they are not mine. This protestation (I hope) will
satisfie th'indifferent.

The two Works referred to' have been thought to be, R. B. Gent,
Greenes Funeralls, 1594 ; and R. B. Gent. ORPHEUS his Joiirney to Hell,
1595 : but the latter of these, is out of the question ; for it was not
registered at Stationers' Hall till the 26 August, 1595 (Transcript &>c.,
iii. 48. Ed. 1876) more than six months after the Cynthia containing the
above passage, was entered for publication.

2. BARNFIELD, on the other hand, thus distinctly claims these pieces
with the others, in Poems in diners humours, at/. 117.

I write these Lines ; fruits of vnriper yeares.

3. It is incredible that SHAKESPEARE should have written of any poet
in these terms, as in the Sonnet If Music, &*c., at/. 118,

Spenser to mee ; whose deepe Conceit is such,
As passing all Conceit, needs no defence.

4. Which lines are evidently BARNFI ELD'S, for he thus repeats the
expression in A Remembrance of some English Poets (including SHAKE
SPEARE himself), on the opposite page : which Remembrance has never-
been attributed to any one else but him.

Liue Spenser euer, in thy Fairy Qucene :
Whose like (for deepe Conceit) was neuer seene ;
expressions which perfectly accord with the poetical position of BARN-
FIELD, who was one of the first professed imitators of SPENSER, p. 44.

5. If Musiqne, &*c.. is the first of two Sonnets : for the authorship of
the Second of which, we have the express testimony of his friend
MERES, that it was written by BARNFIELD : see the lines quoted at/, xiii.
As BARNFIELD was evidently incapable of stealing the First sonnet ;
this proof that he wrote the latter is corroborative of his havin°- written
the former.

6. If BARNFIELD wrote the Sonnet, he wrote also the Ode : for the

INTRODUC T i o N . xxi

poems, in this connection, are inseparable. They were either both
written by him, or by SHAKESPEARE. Clearly to BARNFIELD, must the
authorship be assigned.

7. But, then, Why did BARNFIELD omit these poems in his second
edition of Lady Pecunia in 1605 ? This of course was a somewhat diffi
cult matter to settle without seeing the original edition : and as the only
copy known until recently was at Bridgewater House, this was not an
easy matter, until the Rev. W. E. BUCKLEY identified the other copy in
the Bodleian.

As Mr. COLLIER bases the SHAKESPEARE authorship of these poems
solely on their omission from the 1605 edition : it is but right to state
his later opinion precisely.

" My mistaken notion, twelve years ago [1846] was, that
BARNFIELD, in 1605, had republished the whole of what had
first appeared in 1598. This is not so. In 1605 he prefixed
a general title-page, mentioning only three of the four
divisions of his original work. i. Lady Petunia, or The
Praise of Money. 2. A Combat betwixt Conscience and Covetous-
ness ; and 3. The Complaint of Poetry, for the Death of Liberality.
He says not one word about what had been his fourth divi
sion in 1598, Poems in divers humours : but still, on the very
last leaf of the impression of 1605, Barnfield places A Re
membrance of some English Poets, which had appeared as one
of the Poems in divers humours in 1598. A Comparison of the
Life of Man, a seven-line stanza, is also reprinted ; all the
rest he seems purposely to have excluded as if they were not
his." Notes and Queries, 1856.

" The second edition of BARNFIELD'S Encomion, under the
title of Lady Pecunia, or The praise of Money, was not known at
all until a comparatively recent date, and still more recently
[? in 1856 as above] it was discovered that it did not contain
the poems to which BARNFIELD seemed to have the earliest
title. In 1605 BARNFIELD was too honest to retain what had
been improperly attributed to him [he himself claims them, see
above] in 1598. The Sonnet and the Poem are therefore not
to be traced in the volume in our hands, which forms part of
the library of Bridgewater house." Bibliographical and Critical
Account of the Rarest Books in the English Language, i. pp. 47-50,
Ed. 1865.

It will therefore be seen that the assertion of the SHAKESPEARE author
ship rests, and rests only on the " make up " of the 1605 edition : without
any regard U> intrinsic merits, or to any assertion of authorship (as above
at 2) on the part of BARNFIELD.
ENG, Sea. LIB. No. 14. 2

XX11

I N T R O D U C T I 0 N .

An examination, side by side, of the copies of the two editions in the
Malone Collection (Nos. 295 and 300) in the Bodleian, will shew any
one practically acquainted with printing, that Mr. COLLIER'S references
are nothing but random guesses.

The 1605 edition was never intended to be a careful reprint of the 1598
edition, the framework of which, in four distinct sections, was intentionally
abandoned.

a. The Section Title-pages of the First edition (as at//. 95, 107, 115)
were discarded.

b. The Verse-Dedications of the First edition (as at//. 97, 109, 117)
were also discarded.

c. The Sections do not follow in the same order as in the First
edition : the Combat (pp. 107-114) in the second edition precedes
the Complaint (pp. 95-105).

d. That any of the Poems in divers humours were reprinted at all, is
clearly owing to this last fact. For the 45th and last stanza of the
Complaint ends on the top of the page preceding the last leaf.
A Comparison of the Life of Man (see/. 124), therefore, just filled
up that page nicely.

A Remembrance of some English Poets did the same for the
opposite page of the last leaf; the final page being left blank.

Therefore no question of authorship arises from the omissions which
were purely a publisher's convenience, probably dictated by the price of
the book.

It will also be seen that the section Poems in divers humours contains
•eight poems, of which two only were reprinted by BARNFIELD in 1605,
" All the rest he seems purposely to have excluded as if they were not his,"
says Mr. COLLIER : but unfortunately one of these is An Epitaph upon
the Death of his Aunt Mistresse Elizabeth Skrymsher, whom we know
-was BARNFIELD'S mother's sister.

It is therefore evident that BARNFIELD, and not SHAKESPEARE wrote
these poems : and if so, that they should be omitted from all future
editions of the Works of our great Dramatist.

ISCARDING this modern and unnecessary entanglement, let
us see what our Poet really is in himself, remarking that
all his Verse is the production of a very young man.

Receiving the usual education given to an English gentle
man at the time, this young barrister (as we should now call
him), following the fashion of the Age, addicted himself to versifica
tion. Between the ages of twenty and twenty-four, he published, in
his three Collections, some forty-five pieces, short and long, in different
metres, and in varying styles, of what, in the present day, would be
looked upon as yers de so^iete : that is, skilful poetry, not expressing
any personal feelings or describing any great epic action or passion.

INTRODUCTION. xxiii

So that we should not, by any means, consider him, with WARTON, as
the first of the minor Elizabethan poets : indeed he seems to us hardly a
third-rate poet ; if DRAYTON, DANIEL, CHAPMAN, CAMPION, and such
others constituted, then, the second rank of our hierarchy of Makers.

Among other characteristics of these poems., the following are apparent.

1. An abundant vocabulary. Proportionately to their length, there is a
large number of different words, and some of them out-of-the-way ones,
in these poems.

2. There is evident also, a constant strain after novelty ; either through
unusual subjects, or by unusual treatment of ordinary subjects. BARN-
FIELD avows this, at p. 83, in regard to Lady Pecunia,

Being determined to write of something,' and yet not
resolued of any thing, I considered with my selfe, if one
should write of Loue (they will say) why, euery one writes
of Loue: if of Vertue, why, who regards Vertue? To be
short, I could thinke of nothing, but either it was common,
or not at all in request ;

and it is also characteristic of many of his poems.

This craving after something cleverly strange, has laid him open to the
charge of equivocal writing ; which disappears at once, when we consider
his versification was for the most part but an amusement, and had little
serious or personal in it.

He being about twenty years of age, wrote in imitation of VIRGIL his
Affectionate Shepheard, and the twenty Sonnets in Cynthia (pp. 53-63),
to a youth, whom he named GANYMEDE, in the character of an old man
thus described at/. 23 :

Behold my gray head, full of siluer haires,
My wrinckled skin, deepe furrowes in my face :
Cares bring Old-Age, Old-Age increaseth cares ;
My Time is come, and I haue run my Race :
Winter hath snow'd vpon my hoarie head,
And with my Winter all my ioys are dead.

It is clearly a piece of artificiality, a trying after the uncommon.
So likewise, he selected his punning and bantering Prayse of Lady
Pecitnia, because it was unhackneyed.

At length I bethought my selfe of a Subiect, both new (as
hauing neuer beene written vpon before) and pleasing (as I
thought) because Mans Nature (commonly) loues to heare
that praised, with whose pressence,hee is most pleased, p. 83.

3. Another noticeable point is his hearty recognition in verse of the
greater merits of recent or contemporary English poets : as of SIDNEY,
at//. 28, 31, 119, 122 ; WATSON, at//. 29, 31 ; SPENSER, z.\.pp. 31, 118,
119; URAYTON, at //. 31, 119; DANIEL, at/. 119; SHAKESPEARE at
/. 1 20 ; with others of an earlier date.

XXIV

INTRODUCTION.

v i

| HE other principal references may be given.

They are, RITSON, Bibliographia Poetica, 124, Ed. 1802.
ELLIS, Specimens of the English Poets, ii. 356, Ed. 1803.
BELOE, Anecdotes of Literatiire, ii. 68, Ed. 1807. BODEN-
HAM'S England's Helicon, 126, Ed. 1812. Sir E. BRYDGES,
Restitute iv. 490, .£#. 1816. Gentleman s Magazine, 3 S. xvi./. 159.
Collectanea Anglo-Poetica, i. 184-6, Chectham Society, 1860. Bibliothcca
Heberiana, iv. 15.

VII.

i N CONCLUSION, we cannot refrain from the expression of our
gratification at yet another lost English Author being re
stored to life again, through our instrumentality. How many
more are there ? We cannot say. Though we have been
constantly printing for now nearly fourteen years : there

seems more ahead, than behind. Will this Generation own the Endeavour,

or shall it be left to Posterity to do so ?

"3E

The Affectionate

Shepheard.

Containing the Complaint of Dap/mis for
the loue of Ganymede.

Amor plus me His, quamfellis, est.

LONDON,

Printed by lohn Danter for T. G. and E. N,

and are to bee fold in Saint Dunftones

Church-yeard in Fleetftreet,

M94-

To the Right Excellent

and most beautifull Lady, the Ladie
PENELOPE RITCH.

Ay re louely Ladie, whose Angelique eyes
Are Vestall Candles of sweet Beauties Treasure,
Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise,
Comtertingloyto Paine, and Paine to Pleasure-,
Accept this simple Toy of my Soztles Dutie,
Which I present vnto thy matchles Beazitie.

And albeit the gift be all too meane,

Too meane an Off ring for thine luorie Shrine ;

Yet miist thy Beautie my iust blame susteane,

Since it is mortally biit thy selfe diuine.
Then (Noble Ladie] take in gentle worth,
This new-borne Babe which here my Miise brings forth.

Your Honours most affectionate

and perpetually deuoted Shepheard :

DAPHNIS .

dMyyb^^

The Teares of an

affectionate Shepheard sicke

for Loue.

o R

The Complaint of Dap/mis for the Loue
of Ganimede.

Carce had the morning Starre hid from the
light [spangled,

Heauens crimson Canopie with stars be-
But I began to rue th'vnhappy sight
Of that faire Boy that had my hart in-
tangled ;
Cursing the Time, the Place, the

sense, the sin ;
I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in.

If it be sinne to loue a sweet-fac'd Boy,
(Whose amber locks trust vp in golden tramels
Dangle adowne his louely cheekes with ioy,
When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels)

If it be sinne to loue a louely Lad ;

Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.

His luory-white and Alabaster skin
Is staind throughout with rare Vermillion red,
Whose twinckling starrie lights do neuer blin
To shine on louely Venus (Beauties bed :)
But as the Lillie and the blushing Rose,
So white and red on him in order growes.

6 THE AFFECTIONATE [R-£a™^d4

Vpon a time the Nymphs bestird them-selues
To trie who could his beautie soonest win :
But he accounted them but all as Elues,
Except it were the faire Queene Gwendolen,
Her he embrac'd, of her was beloued,
With plaints he proued, and with teares he moued..

But her an Old-Man had beene sutor too,

That in his age began to doate againe ;

Her would he often pray, and often woo,

When through old-age enfeebled was his Braine :
But she before had lou'd a lustie youth
That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.

And thus it hapned, Death and Cupid met
Vpon a time at swilling Bacchus house,
Where daintie cates vpon the Board were set,
And Goblets full of wine to drinke carouse :
Where Loue and Death did loue the licor so,
That out they fall and to the fray they goe.

And hauing both their Quiuers at their backe
Fild full of Arrows ; Th'one of fatall steele,
The other all of gold ; Deaths shaft was black,
But Loues was yellow : Fortune turnd her wheele ;;
And from Deaths Quiuer fell a fatall shaft,
That vnder Cupid by the winde was waft.

And at the same time by ill hap there fell

Another Arrow out of Cupids Quiuer ;

The which was carried by the winde at will,

And vnder Death the amorous shaft did shiuer :
They being parted, Loue tooke vp Deaths dart,
And Death tooke vp Loues Arrow (for his part.)

Thus as they wandred both about the world,
At last Death met with one of feeble age :
Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld
The vnknowne Arrow ; (with a furious rage)

Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart
But he (alas) with Loue did wound his hart.

«S] SHEPHEARD.

This was the doting foole, this was the man
That lou'd faire Gucndolena Queene of Beautie ;
Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,
For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety :

Making him trim vpon the holy-daies ;

And crownes his Loue with Garlands made of Baies.

Now doth he stroke his Beard ; and now (againe)

He wipes the driuel from his filthy chin ;

Now offers he a kisse ; but high Disdaine

Will not permit her hart to pity him:

Her hart more hard than Adamant or steele,
Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.

But leaue we him in loue (vp to the eares)
And tell how Loue behau'd himselfe abroad ;
Who seeing one that mourned still in teares
(a young-man groaning vnder Loues great Load)
Thinking to ease his Burden, rid his paines :
For men haue griefe as long as life remaines.

Alas (the while) that vnawares he drue
The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before ;
By which deceit great harme did then issue,
Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare.
His face, that was to Gwendolen more deere
Than loue of Lords, of any lordly Peere.

This was that faire and beautifull young-man,

Whom Gucndolena so lamented for ;

This is that Loue whom she doth curse and ban,

Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor :
And if it were not for his Mothers sake,
Euen Ganimedc himselfe she would forsake.

Oh would shee would forsake my Ganimede,
Whose sugred loue is full of sweete delight,
Vpon whose fore-head you may plainely reade
Loues Pleasure, grau'd in yuorie Tables bright :
In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see
Base Loue still staind with foule indignitie.

3 THE AFFECTIONATE [R^rS

Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,
That loue him more than any mortall wight ;
Then he and I with loue would soone agree,
That now cannot abide his Sutors sight.

0 would to God (so I might haue my fee)
My lips were honey, and thy mouth a Bee.

Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flower
That now is ripe, and full of honey-berries :
Then would I leade thee to my pleasant Bower
Fild full of Grapes, of Mulberries, and Cherries ;
Then shouldst thou be my Waspe or else my Bee,

1 would thy hiue, and thou my honey bee.

I would put amber Bracelets on thy wrests,
Crownets of Pearle about thy naked Armes :
And when thou sitst at swilling Bacchus feasts
My lips with charmes should saue thee from all harmes :
And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest Pleasure,
Mine eyes should gaze vpon thine eye-lids Treasure.

And euery Morne by dawning of the day,
When Phcebus riseth with a blushing face,
Siluanus Chappel-Clarkes shall chaunt a Lay,
And play thee hunts-vp in thy resting place :

My Coote thy Chamber, my bosome thy Bed ;

Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.

And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad,
(Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre :)
The Meades with Floras treasure should be strowde,
(The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.)
And by a siluer Well (with golden sands)
He sit me downe, and wash thine yuory hands.

And in the sweltring heate of summer time,
I would make Cabinets for thee (my Loue :)
Sweet-smelling Arbours made of Eglantine
Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy Doue.
Coole Cabinets of fresh greene Laurell boughs
Should shadow vs. ore-set with thicke-set Eughes.

SHEPHEARD. 9

Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs,

Within the Christall of a Pearle-bright brooke,

Paued with dainty pibbles to the brims ;

Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thy selfe mayst looke ;
Weele goe to Ladon, whose still trickling noyse,
Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy ioyes.

Or if thoult goe vnto the Riuer side,
To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish :
Arm'd with thy implements that will abide
(Thy rod, hooke, line) to take a dainty dish ;
Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke,
Thy hooks of siluer, and thy bayts of milke.

Or if thou lou'st to heare sweet Melodic,
Or pipe a Round vpon an Oaten Reede,
Or make thy selfe glad with some myrthfull glee,
Or play them Musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede ;
To Pans owne Pipe He helpe my louely Lad,
(Pans golden Pype) which he of Syrinx had.

Or if thou dar'st to climbe the highest Trees
For Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Peares, or Plumbs,
Nuts, Walnuts, Filbeards, Chest-nuts, Ceruices,
The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes ;

I haue fine Orchards full of mellowed frute ;

Which I will giue thee to obtain my sute.

Not proud Alcynous himselfe can vaunt,
Of goodlier Orchards or of brauer Trees
Than I haue planted ; yet thou wilt not graunt
My simple sute ; but like the honey Bees

Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone ;

And lou'st mee for my Coyne till I haue none.

Leaue Guendolen (sweet hart) though she be faire
Yet is she light ; not light in vertue shining :
But light in her behauiour, to impaire
Her honour in her Chastities declining;

Trust not her teares, for they can watonnize.

When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.

THE AFFECTIONATE

If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home ;
My sheep-cote shall be strovvd with new greene rushes :
Weele haunt the trembling Prickets as they rome
About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes ;

I haue a pie-bald Curre to hunt the Hare :

So we will Hue with daintie forrest fare.

Nay more than this, I haue a Garden-plot,
Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers ;
(Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,)
And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers :
Sweet-smelling Beds of Lillies and of Roses,
Which Rosemary banks and Lauender incloses.

There growes the Gilliflowre, the Mynt, the Dayzie

(Both red and white,) the blew-veynd-Violet :

The purple Hyacinth, the Spyke to please thee,

The scarlet dyde Carnation bleeding yet ;
The Sage, the Sauery, and sweet Margerum,
Isop, Tyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe.

The Pinke, the Primrose, Cowslip, and Daffadilly,
The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Cullumbine,
Sage, Lettis, Parsley, and the milke-white Lilly,
The Rose, and speckled flowre cald Sops in wine,
Fine pretie King-cups, and the yellow Bootes, ,
That growes by Riuers, and by shallow Brookes.

And manie thousand moe (I cannot name)

Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow,

I haue for thee ; and Coneyes that be tame,

Yong Rabbets, white as Swan, and blacke as Crow,
Some speckled here and there with daintie spots :
And more I haue two mylch and milke-white Goates.

All these, and more, He giue thee for thy loue ;

If these, and more, may tyce thy loue away :

I haue a Pidgeon-house, in it a Doue,

Which I loue more than mortall tongue can say :
And last of all, He giue thee a little Lambe
To play withall, new weaned from her Dam.

SHEPHEARD. n

But if thou wilt not pittie my Complaint,

My Teares, nor Vowes, nor Oathes, made to thy Beautie :

What shall I doo ? But languish, die, or faint,

Since thou dost scorne my Teares, and my Soules Duetie :

And Teares contemned, Vowes and Oaths must faile ;

For where Teares cannot, nothing can preuaile.

Compare the loue of faire Queene Guendolin

With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth loue thee :

I loue thee for thy qualities diuine,

But She doth loue another Swaine aboue thee :

I loue thee for thy gifts, She for hir pleasure ;

I for thy Vertue, She for Beauties treasure.

And alwaies (I am sure) it cannot last,
But sometime Nature will dehie those dimples :
In steed of Beautie (when thy Blossom's past)
Thy face will be deformed, full of wrinckles :
Then She that lou'd thee for thy Beauties sake,
When Age drawes on, thy loue will soone forsake.

But I that lou'd thee for thy gifts diuine,

In the December of thy Beauties waning,

Will still admire (with ioy) those louely eine,

That now behold, me with their beauties baning :
Though lanuarie will neuer come againe,
Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.

When will my May come, that I may embrace thee ?
When will the hower be of my soules ioying ?
Why dost thou seeke in mirthe still to disgrace mee ?
Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying.

Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes,

Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.

Thus doo I honour thee that loue thee so,
And loue thee so, that so doo honour thee,
Much more than anie mortall man doth know,
Or can discerne by Loue or lealozie :

But if that thou disdainst my louing euer;

Oh happie I, if I had loued neuer. Finis.

Plus fellis quam mcllis Amor.

The second Dayes Lamentation of

the Affectionate Shepheard.

Ext Morning when the golden Sunne was risen,
And new had bid good morrow to the Mountaines;
When Night her siluer light had lockt in prison,
Which gaue a glimmering on the christall

Fountaines :

Then ended sleepe : and then my cares began,
Eu'n with the vprising of the siluer Swan.

O glorious Sunne quoth I, (viewing the Sunne)
That lightenst euerie thing but me alone :
Why is my Summer season almost done ?
My Spring-time past, and Ages Autumne gone ?
My Haruest's come, and yet I reapt no corne :
My loue is great, and yet I am forlorne.

Witnes these watrie eyes my sad lament
(Receauing cisternes of my ceaseles teares),
Witnes my bleeding hart my soules intent,
Witnes the weight distressed Daphnis beares :

Sweet Loue, come ease me of thy burthens paine ;

Or els I die, or else my hart is slaine.

And thou loue-scorning Boy, cruell, vnkinde ;
Oh let me once againe intreat some pittie:
May be thou wilt relent thy marble minde,
And lend thine eares vnto my dolefull Dittie :

Oh pittie him, that pittie craues so sweetly ;

Or else thou shalt be neuer named meekly.

If thou wilt loue me, thou shalt be my Boy,
My sweet Delight, the Comfort of my minde,
My Loue, my Doue, my Sollace, and my loy :
But if I can no grace nor mercie finde,
He goe to Caucasus to ease my smart,
And let a Vulture gnaw vpon my hart.

THESHEPHEARD. 13

Yet if thou wilt but show me one kinde looke
(A small reward for my so great affection)
lie graue thy name in Beauties golden Booke,
And shrowd thee vnder Hellicons protection ;
Making the Muses chaunt thy louely prayse :
(For they delight in Shepheards lowly layes.)

And when th'art wearie of thy keeping Sheepe
Vpon a louely Downe, (to please thy minde)
He giue thee fine ruffe-footed Doues to keepe,
And pretie Pidgeons of another kinde :

A Robbin-red-brest shall thy Minstrell bee,
Chirping thee sweet, and pleasant Melodic.

Or if thou wilt goe shoote at little Birds

With bow and boult (the Thrustle-cocke and Sparrow)

Such as our Countrey hedges can afford's ;

I haue a fine bowe, and an yuorie arrow :

And if thou misse, yet meate thou shalt [not] lacke,

He hang a bag and bottle at thy backe.

Wilt thou set springes in a frostie Night,
To catch the long-billd Woodcocke and the Snype ?
(By the bright glimmering of the Starrie light)
The Partridge, Phaesant, or the greedie Grype ?
He lend thee lyme-twigs, and fine sparrow calls,
Wherewith the Fowler silly Birds inthralls.

Or in a mystie morning if thou wilt
Make pit-falls for the Larke and Pheldifare ;
Thy prop and sweake shall be both ouer-guilt ;
With Cyparissus selfe thou shalt compare

For gins and wyles, the Oozels to beguile ;

Whilst thou vnder a bush shalt sit and smile.

Or with Hare-pypes (set in a muset hole)

Wilt thou deceaue the deep-earth-deluing Coney ?

Or wilt thou in a yellow Boxen bole,

Taste with a woodden splent the sweet lythe honey ?

Clusters of crimson Grapes He pull thee downe ;

And with Vine-leaues make thee a louely Crowne.

ENG. SCH. LIB. No. 14. 7

THE AFFECTIONATE f;fSSSi

Or wilt thou drinke a cup of new-made Wine
Froathing at top, mixt with a dish of Creame ;
And Straw-berries, or Bil-berries in their prime,
Bath'd in a melting Sugar-Candie streame :
Bunnell and Perry I haue for thee (alone)
When Vynes are dead, and all the Grapes are gone.

I haue a pleasant noted Nightingale,
(That sings as sweetly as the siluer Swan)
Kept in a Cage of bone ; as white as Whale,
Which I with singing of Philemon wan :

Her shalt thou haue, and all I haue beside;

If thou wilt be my Boy, or else my Bride.

Then will I lay out all my Lardarie

(Of Cheese, of Cracknells, Curds and Clowted-creame)

Before thy male-content ill-pleasing eye :

But why doo I of such great follies dreame ?

Alas, he will not see my simple Coate ;

For all my speckled Lambe, nor milk-white Goate.

Against my Birth-day thou shalt be my guest :
Weele haue Greene-cheeses and fine Silly-bubs ;
And thou shalt be the chiefe of all my feast.
And I will giue thee two fine pretie Cubs,

With two young Whelps, to make thee sport withall,

A golden Racket, and a Tennis-ball.

A guilded Nutmeg, and a race of Ginger,
A silken Girdle, and a drawn-worke Band,
Cuffs for thy wrists, a gold Ring for thy finger,
And sweet Rose-water for thy Lilly-white hand,
A Purse of silke, bespangd with spots of gold,
As braue a one as ere thou didst behold.

A paire of Kniues, a greene Hat and a Feather,
New Gloues to put vpon thy milk-white hand
lie giue thee, for to keep thee from the weather ;
With Phcenix. feathers shall thy Face be fand,

Cooling those Cheekes, that being cool'd wexe red,

Like Lillyes in a bed of Roses shed.

SHEPHEARD. 15

Why doo thy Corall lips disdaine to kisse,
And sucke that Sweete, which manie haue desired ?
That Baulme my Bane, that meanes would mend my misse :
Oh let me then with thy sweete Lips b'inspired ;
When thy Lips touch my Lips, my Lips will turne
To Corall too, and being cold yce will burne.

Why should thy sweete Loue-locke hang dangling downe,
Kissing thy girdle-steed with falling pride ?
Although thy Skin be white, thy haire is browne :
Oh let not then thy haire thy beautie hide ;

Cut off thy Locke, and sell it for gold wier :

(The purest gold is tryde in hottest fier).

Faire-long-haire-wearing Absolon was kild,

Because he wore it in a brauerie :

So that whiche gracde his Beautie, Beautie spild,

Making him subiect to vile slauerie,

In being hangd : a death for him too good,

That sought his owne shame, and his Fathers blood.

Againe, we read of old King Priamus,

(The haplesse syre of valiant Hector slaine)

That his haire was so long and odious

In youth, that in his age it bred his paine :
For if his haire had not been halfe so long,
His life had been, and he had had no wrong.

For when his stately Citie was destroyd

(That Monument of great Antiquitie)

When his poore hart (with griefe and sorrow cloyd)

Fled to his Wife (last hope in miserie ;)
Pyrrhus (more hard than Adamantine rockes)
Held him and halde him by his aged lockes.

These two examples by the way I show.
To proue th'indecencie of mens long haire :
Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe,
Let these suffice for thee (my louely Faire)

Whose eye's my starre ; whose smiling is my Sunne ;

Whose loue did ende before my ioys begunne.

16 THE AFFECTIONATE [%B0\r:t

Fond Loue is blinde, and so art thou (my Deare)
For thou seest not my Loue, and great desart ;
Blinde Loue is fond, and so thou dost appeare;
For fond, and blinde, thou greeust my greeuing hart :

Be thou fond-blinde, blinde-fond, or one, or all ;

Thou art my Loue, and I must be thy thrall.

Oh lend thine yuorie fore-head for Loues Booke,
Thine eyes for candles to behold the same ;
That when dim-sighted ones therein shall looke
They may discerne that proud disdainefull Dame ;

Yet claspe that Booke, and shut that Cazement light ;

Lest th'one obscurde, the other shine too bright.

Sell thy sweet breath to th'daintie Musk-ball-makers ;

Yet sell it so as thou mayst soone redeeme it :

Let others of thy beauty be pertakers ;

Els none but Daphnis will so well esteeme it :

For what is Beauty except it be well knowne ?

And how can it be knowne, except first showne ?

Learne of the Gentlewomen of this Age,

That set their Beauties to the open view,

Making Disdaine their Lord, true Loue their Page ;

A Custome Zeale doth hate, Desert doth rue :
Learne to looke red, anon waxe pale and wan,
Making a mocke of Loue, a scorne of man.

A candle light, and couer'd with a vaile,
Doth no man good, because it giues no light ;
So Beauty of her beauty seemes to faile,
When being not scene it cannot shine so bright.
Then show thy selfe and know thy selfe withall,
Lest climing high thou catch too great a fall.

Oh foule Eclipser of that fayre sun-shine,

Which is intitled Beauty in the best ;

Making that mortall, which is els diuine,

That staines the fayre which Womens steeme not least :
Get thee to Hell againe (from whence thou art)
And leaue the Center of a Woman's hart.

£££ SHEPHEARD. 17

Ah be not staind, (sweet Boy) with this vilde spot,
Indulgence Daughter, Mother of mischaunce ;
A blemish that doth euery beauty blot ;
That makes them loath'd, but neuer doth aduaunce

Her Clyents, fautors, friends ; or them that loue her ;

And hates them most of all, that most reproue her.

Remember Age, and thou canst not be prowd,
For age puls downe the pride of euery man ;
In youthfull yeares by Nature tis allowde
To haue selfe-will, doo Nurture what she can ;
Nature and Nurture once together met,
The Soule and shape in decent order set.

Pride looks aloft, still staring on the starres,
Humility looks lowly on the ground ;
Th'one menaceth the Gods with ciuill warres,
The other toyles til he haue Vertue found :

His thoughts are humble, not aspiring hye ;

But Pride looks haughtily with scornefull eye.

Humillity is clad in modest weedes,

But Pride is braue and glorious to the show ;

Humillity his friends with kindnes feedes,

But Pride his friends (in neede) will neuer know:

Supplying not. their wants, but them disdaining;

Whilst they to pitty neuer neede complayning.

Humillity in misery is relieu'd,
But Pride in neede of no man is regarded ;
Pitty and Mercy weepe to see him grieu'd
That in distresse had them so well rewarded :
But Pride is scornd, contemnd, disdaind, derided,
Whilst Humblenes of all things is prouided.

Oh then be humble, gentle, meeke, and milde ;
So shalt thou be of euery mouth commended ;
Be not disdainfull, cruell, proud, (sweet childe)
So shalt thou be of no man much condemned ;

Care not for them that Vertue doo despise ;

Vertue is loathde of fooles ; loude of the wise.

i8 THE AFFECTIONATE [%?avrn?5t

O faire Boy trust not to thy Beauties wings,
They cannot carry thee aboue the Sunne :
Beauty and wealth are transitory things,
(For all must ende that euer was begunne)

But Fame and Vertue neuer shall decay;

For Fame is toombles, Vertue Hues for aye.

The snow is white, and yet the pepper's blacke,
The one is bought, the other is contemned :
Pibbles we haue, but store of leat we lacke ;
So white comparde to blacke is much condemned :
We doo not praise the Swanne because shees white,
But for she doth in Musique much delite.

And yet the siluer-noted Nightingale,
Though she be not so white is more esteemed ;
Sturgion is dun of hew, white is the Whale,
Yet for the daintier Dish the first is deemed ;

What thing is whiter than the milke-bred Lilly ?

Thou knowes it not for naught, what man so silly ?

Yea what more noysomer vnto the smell
Than Lillies are ? what's sweeter than the Sage?
Yet for pure white the Lilly beares the Bell
Till it be faded through decaying Age ;

House-Doues are white, and Oozels Blacke-birds bee;

Yet what a difference in the taste, we see.

Compare the Cow and Calfe, with Ewe and Lambe ;

Rough hayrie Hydes, with softest downy Fell ;

Hecfar and Bull, with Weather and with Ramme,

And you shall see how far they doo excell ;

White Kine with blacke, blacke Coney-skins with gray,
Kine, nesh and strong ; skin, deare and cheape alway.

The whitest siluer is not alwaies best,
Lead, Tynne, and Pewter are of base esteeme ;
The yellow burnisht gold, that comes from th'East,
And West (of late inuented), may beseeme

The worlds ritch Treasury, or Mydas eye ;

(The Ritch mans God, poore mans felicitie.)

%"£] SHEPHEARD. 19

Bugle and leat, with snow and Alablaster
I will compare : White Dammasin with blacke ;
Bullas and wheaton Plumbs, (to a good Taster,)
The ripe red Cherries haue the sweetest smacke ;

When they be greene and young, th'are sowre and naught ;

But being ripe, with eagerness th'are baught.

Compare the Wyld-cat to the brownish Beauer,

Running for life, with hounds pursued sore ;

When Hunts-men of her pretious Stones bereaue her

(Which with her teeth sh'had bitten off before) :
Restoratiues, and costly curious Felts
Are made of them, and rich imbroydred Belts.

To what vse serues a peece of crimbling Chalke ?
The Agget stone is white, yet good for nothing:
Fie, fie, I am asham'd to heare thee talke ;
Be not so much of thine owne Image doating :

So faire Narcissus lost his loue and life.

(Beautie is often with itselfe at strife).

Right Diamonds are of a russet hieu,
The brightsome Carbuncles are red to see too,
The Saphyre stone is of a watchet blue,
(To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree too):
Pearles are not white but gray, Rubies are red :
In praise of Blacke, what can be better sed ?

For if we doo consider of each mortall thing
That flyes in welkin, or in waters swims,
How euerie thing increaseth with the Spring,
And how the blacker still the brighter dims :

We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse,

Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse.

As for example, in the christall cleare
Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running Riuer,
Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare,
(Whose names to thee I cannot now deliuer:)

The blacker still the brighter haue disgrac'd,

For pleasant profit, and delicious taste.

20 THE AFFECTIONATE [R-NBr^d4:

Salmon and Trout are of a ruddie colour,

Whiting and Dare is of a milk-white hiew :

Nature by them (perhaps) is made the fuller,

Little they nourish, be they old or new :

Carp, Loach, Tench, Eeles (though black and bred in mud)
Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud.

Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them ;
But I a Shepheard, and no Fisher am :
Little it skills whether I praise or blame them,
I onely meddle with my Ew and Lamb :

Yet this I say, that blacke the better is,

In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish.

And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare
Such qualities, as not in yuorie ;
Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for fear,
Scorning to weare another liuorie.

Blacke is the badge of sober Modestie,

The wonted weare of ancient Grauetie.

The learned Sisters sute themselues in blacke,

Learning abandons white, and lighter hues :

Pleasure and Pride light colours neuer lacke ;

But true Religion doth such Toyes refuse :
Vertue and Grauity are sisters growne,
Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne.

White is the colour of each paltry Miller,
White is the Ensigne of each comman Woman ;
White, is white Vertues for blacke Vyces Piller ;
White makes proud fooles inferiour vnto no man :

White, is the white of Body, blacke of Minde,

(Vertue we seldome in white Habit finde.)

Oh then be not so proud because th'art fayre,

Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God :

Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre,

Beate not greene youth with sharpe Repentance Rod :

(A Fiend, a Monster, and mishapen Diuel ;

Vertues foe, Vyces friend, the roote of euill.)

. SHEPHEARD. 21

Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man,
Auoyd ill company (the spoyle of youth ;)
To follow Vertues Lore doo what thou can
(Whereby great profit vnto thee ensu[e]th :)
Reade Bookes, hate Ignorance, (the foe to Art,
The Damme of Errour, Enuy of the hart).

Seme lone (vpon thy knees) both day and night,
Adore his Name aboue all things on Earth :
So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight,
So little Babes are blessed in their Birth :

Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin ;

(For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin).

Sweare no vaine oathes ; heare much, but little say;

Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires,

Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay ;

(So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares :)
Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all,
Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall.

Be not beguild with words, proue not vngratefull,
Releeue thy Neighbour in his greatest need,
Commit no action that to all is hatefull,
Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed:

Twit no man in the teeth with what th'hast done ;

Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne.

Leaue wicked things, which Men to mischiefe moue,
(Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring,)
Craue no preferment of thy heauenly loue,
Nor anie honor of thy earthly King :

Boast not thy selfe before th'Almighties sight,
(Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight).

Be not offensiue to the peoples eye,
See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords,
Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie,
Esteeme no tatling tales, nor babling words;
That reason is exiled alwaies thinke,
When as a drunkard rayles amidst his drinke.

22 THE AFFECTIONATE [R-^t

Vse not thy louely lips to loathsome lyes,
By craftie meanes increase no worldly wealth ;
Striue not with mightie Men (whose fortune flies)
With temp'rate diet nourish wholesome health :

Place well thy words, leaue not thy frend for gold ;

First trie, then trust ; in ventring be not bold.

In Pan repose thy trust ; extoll his praise
(That neuer shall decay, but euer Hues) :
Honor thy Parents (to prolong thy dayes),
Let not thy left hand know what right hand giues :
From needie men turn not thy face away,
(Though Charitie be now yclad in clay).

Heare Shepheards oft (thereby great wisdome growes),
With good aduice a sober answere make :
Be not remoou'd with euery winde that blowes,
(That course doo onely sinfull sinners take).

Thy talke will shew thy fame or els thy shame ;

(As pratling tongue doth often purchase blame).

Obtaine a faithfull frend that will not faile thee,
Thinke on thy Mothers paine in her child-bearing,
Make no debate, least quickly thou bewaile thee,
Visit the sicke with comfortable chearing :
Pittie the prisner, helpe the fatherlesse,
Reuenge the Widdowes wrongs in her distresse.

Thinke on thy graue, remember still thy end,
Let not thy winding-sheete be staind with guilt,
Trust not a fained reconciled frend,
More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt)
(Who tutcheth pitch, with pitch shalbe denied),
Be not with wanton companie beguiled.

Take not a flattring woman to thy wife,
A shameles creature, full of wanton words,
(Whose bad, thy good ; whose lust will end thy life,
Cutting thy hart with sharpe two edged swords :)
Cast not thy minde on her whose lookes allure,
But she that shines in Truth and Vertue pure.

S H E P H E A R D . 23

Praise not thy selfe, let other men commend thee ;
Beare not a flattring tongue to glauer anie,
Let Parents due correction not offend thee :
Rob not thy neighbor, seeke the loue of manie ;

Hate not to heare good Counsell giuen thee,

Lay not thy money vnto Vsurie.

Restraine thy steps from too much libertie,
Fulfill not th'enuious mans malitious minde;
Embrace thy Wife, Hue not in lecherie ;
Content thyselfe with what Fates haue assignde :

Be rul'd by Reason, Warning dangers saue ;

True Age is reuerend worship to thy graue.

Be patient in extreame Aduersitie,

(Man's chiefest credit growes by dooingwell,)

Be no high-minded in Prosperity ;

Falshood abhorre, nor lying fable tell.

Giue not thy selfe to Sloth, (the sinke of Shame,
The moath of Time, the enemie to Fame.)

This leare I learned of a Bel-dame Trot,

(When I was yong and wylde as now thou art) :

But her good counsell I regarded not ;

I markt it with my eares, not with my hart :
But now I finde it too-too true (my Sonne),
When my Age-withered Spring is almost done.

And thou loue-hating Boy, (whom once I loued),

Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell;

My Teares the Marble Stones to ruth haue moued ;

My sad Complaints the babling Ecchoes tell :

And yet thou wouldst take no compassion on mee,
Scorning that crosse which Loue hath laid vpon mee.

THE SHEPHEARD. [R'^vr.n

The hardest steele with fier doth mend his misse,
Marble is mollifyde with drops of Raine ;
But thou (more hard than Steele or Marble is)
Boost scorne my Teares, and my true loue disdaine,

Which for thy sake shall euerlasting bee,

Wrote in the Annalls of Eternitie.

By this, the Night (with darknes ouer-spred)
Had drawne the curtaines of her cole-blacke bed ;
And Cynthia muffling her face with a clowd,
(Lest all the world of her should be too prowd)
Had taken Conge of the sable Night,
(That wanting her cannot be halfe so bright ;)

When I poore forlorne man and outcast creature
(Despairing of my Loue, despisde of Beautie)
Grew male-content, scorning his louely feature,
That had disdaind my euer-zealous dutie :

I hy'd me homeward by the Moone-shine light ;

Forswearing Loue, and all his fond delight.

FINIS.

The Shepherds Content

The happines of a harmless life.

Written upon Occasion of the

former Subject.

F all the kindes of common Countrey life,
Methinkes a Shepheards life is most Con
tent;

His State is quiet Peace, deuoyd of strife ;
His thoughts are pure from all impure

intent,

His Pleasures rate sits at an easie rent:
He beares no mallice in his harmles hart,
Malicious meaning hath in him no part.

He is not troubled with th'afflicted minde,

His cares are onely ouer silly Sheepe ;

He is not vnto lealozie inclinde,

(Thrice happie Man) he knowes not how to weepe ;

Whil'st I the Treble in deepe sorrowes keepe ;
I cannot keepe the Meane ; for why (alas)
Griefes haue no meane, though I for meane doe passe.

No Briefes nor Semj-Briefes are in my Songs,

Because (alas) my griefe is seldome shoot;

My Prick-Song's alwayes full of Largues and Longs,

(Because I neuer can obtaine the Port

Of my desires : Hope is a happie Fort.)

Prick-song (indeed) because it pricks my hart ;

And Song, because sometimes I ease my smart.

26 CONTENT. [%B0TSi

The mightie Monarch of a royall Realme,
Swaying his Scepter with a Princely pompe ;
Of his desires cannot so steare the Healme,
But sometime falls into a deadly dumpe,
When as he heares the shrilly-sounding Trumps

Of Forren Enemies, or home-bred Foes ;

His minde of griefe, his hart is full of woes.

Or when bad subjects gainst their Soueraigne

(Like hollow harts) vnnaturally rebell,

How carefull is he to suppresse againe

Their desperate forces, and their powers to quell

With loyall harts, till all (againe) be well :

When (being subdu'd) his care is rather more

To keepe them vnder, than it was before.

Thus is he neuer full of sweete Content,

But either this or that his ioy debars:

Now Noble-men gainst Noble-men are bent,

Now Gentlemen and others fall at iarrs :

Thus is his Countrey full of ciuill warrs ;
He still in danger sits, still fearing Death :
For Traitors seeke to stop their Princes breath.

The whylst the other hath no enemie,
Without it be the Wolfe and cruell Fates
(Which no man spare) : when as his disagree
He with his sheep-hooke knaps them on the pates,
Schooling his tender Lambs from wanton gates :

Beasts are more kinde then Men, Sheepe seeke not blood
But countrey caytiues kill their Countreyes good.

The Courtier he fawn's for his Princes fauour,

In hope to get a Princely ritch Reward ;

His tongue is tipt with honey for to glauer ;

Pride deales the Deck whilst Chance doth choose the Card,

Then comes another and his Game hath mard ;
Sitting betwixt him, and the morning Sun :
Thus Night is come before the Day is done.

R. Barnfield.l (-Q M T F N T 2

Nov. I594.J \"\J IN 1 i- 1> 1 • ^

Some Courtiers carefull of their Princes health,

Attends his Person with all dilligence

Whose hand's their hart ; whose welfare is their wealth,

Whose safe Protection is their sure Defence,

For pure affection, not for hope of pence :

Such is the faithfull hart, such is the minde,

Of him that is to Vertue still inclinde.

The skilfull Scholler, and braue man at Armes,
First plies his Booke, last rights for Countries Peace ;
Th'one feares Obliuion, th'other fresh Alarmes ;
His paines nere ende, his trauailes neuer cease ;
His with the Day, his with the Night increase :

He studies how to get eternall Fame ;

The Souldier fights to win a glorious Name.

The Knight, the Squire, the Gentleman, the Clowne,

Are full of crosses and calamities ;

Lest fickle Fortune should begin to frowne,

And turne their mirth to extreame miseries :

Nothing more certaine than incertainties ;

Fortune is full of fresh varietie :

Constant in nothing but inconstancie.

The wealthie Merchant that doth crosse the Seas,
To Denmarke, Poland, Spaine, and Barbarie ;
For all his ritches, Hues not still at ease ;
Sometimes he feares ship-spoyling Pyracie,
Another while deceipt and treacherie

Of his owne Factors in a forren Land ;

Thus doth he still in dread and danger stand.

\Vell is he tearmd a Merchant-Venturer,
Since he doth venter lands, and goods, and all :
When he doth trauell for his Traffique far,
Little he knowes what fortune may befall,
Or rather what mis-fortune happen shall :

Sometimes he splits his Ship against a rocke ;

Loosing his men, his goods, his wealth, his. stocke.

28 THESHEPHEARDS [VarnfiekL

Nov. 1594.

And if he so escape with life away,
He counts himselfe a man most fortunate,
Because the waues their rigorous rage did stay,
(When being within their cruell powers of late,
The Seas did seeme to pittie his estate)
But yet he neuer can recouer health,
Because his ioy was drowned with his wealth.

The painfull Plough-swaine, and the Husband-man
Rise vp each morning by the breake of day,
Taking what toyle and drudging paines they can,
And all is for to get a little stay ;
And yet they cannot put their care away :

When Night is come, their cares begin afresh,
Thinking vpon their Morrowes busines.

Thus euerie man is troubled with vnrest,
From rich to poore, from high to low degree :
Therefore I thinke that man is truly blest,
That neither cares for wealth nor pouertie,
But laughs at Fortune and her foolerie ;

That giues rich Churles great store of golde and fee,
And lets poore Schollers Hue in miserie,

O fading Branches of decaying Bayes

Who now will water your dry-wither'd Armes ?

Or where is he that sung the louely Layes

Of simple Shepheards in their Countrey-Farmes ?

Ah he is dead, the cause of all our harmes :

And with him dide my ioy and sweete delight ;

And cleare to Clowdes, the Day is turnd to Night.

SYDNEY. The Syren of this latter Age;
SYDNEY. The Blasing-starre of England's glory ;
SYDNEY. The Wonder of wise and sage ;
SYDNEY. The Subiect of true Vertues story ;

This Syren, Starre, this Wonder, and this Subiect ;

In dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by Fortunes Obiect.

*•£•££] CONTENT. 2.

But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium,
(The happy Hauen of eternall rest :)
And let me to my former matter come,
Prouing by Reason, Shepheard's life is best,
Because he harbours Vertue in his Brest ;
And is content (the chiefest thing of all)
With any fortune that shall him befall.

He sits all Day lowd-piping on a Hill,
The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace,
His hart with ioy, his eares with Musique fill :
Anon a bleating Weather beares the Bace,
A Lambe the Treble ; and to his disgrace
Another answers like a middle Meane :
Thus euery one to beare a Part are faine.

Like a great King he rules a little Land,

Still making Statutes, and ordayning Lawes ;

Which if they breake, he beates them with his Wand :

He doth defend them from the greedy lawes

Of rau'ning Woolues, and Lyons bloudy Pawes.

His Field, his Realme ; his Subiects are his Sheepe ;

Which he doth still in due obedience keepe.

First he ordaines by Act of Parlament,
(Holden by custome in each Countrey Towne),
That if a sheepe (with any bad intent)
Presume to breake the neighbour Hedges downe,
Or haunt strange Pastures that be not his owne ;
He shall be pounded for his lustines,
Vntill his Master finde out some redres.
ENG. SCH. LIB. No. 14. 4

THESHEPHEARDS [

Also if any proue a Strageller

From his owne fellowes in a forraine field,

He shall be taken for a wanderer,

And forc'd himselfe immediatly to yeeld,

Or with a wyde-mouth'd Mastiue Curre be kild.
And if not claimd within a twelue-month's space,
He shall remaine with Land-lord of the place.

Or if one stray to feede far from the rest,
He shall be pincht by his swift pye-bald Curre ;
If any by his fellowes be opprest,
The wronger (for he doth all wrong abhorre)
Shall be well bangd so long as he can sturre.
Because he did anoy his harmeles Brother,
That meant not harme to him nor any other.

And last of all, if any wanton Weather,
With briers and brambles teare his fleece in twaine,
He shall be forc'd t'abide cold frosty weather,
And powring showres of ratling stormes of raine,
Till his new fleece begins to grow againe :
And for his rashnes he is doom'd to goe
without a new Coate all the Winter throw.

Thus doth he keepe them, still in awfull feare,
And yet allowes them liberty inough ;
So deare to him their welfare doth appeare,
That when their fleeces gin to waxen rough,
He combs and trims them with a Rampicke bough,
Washing them in the streames of siluer Ladon,
To cleanse their skinnes from all corruption.

Another while he wooes his Country Wench,
(With Chaplets crownd, and gaudy girlonds dight)
Whose burning Lust her modest eye doth quench,
Standing amazed at her heauenly sight,
(Beauty doth rauish Sense with sweet Delight)
Clearing Arcadia with a smoothed Browe
When Sun-bright smiles melts flakes of driuen snowe.

R. Barnfield.-l CONTENT 7 ]

Nov. 1594. J V_x W IN 1 .L, IN 1 . J J

Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day,
And when Night comes drawes homeward to his Coate,
Singing a ligge or merry Roundelay ;
(For who sings commonly so merry a Noate,
As he that cannot chop or change a groate)
And in the winter Nights (his chiefe desire)
He turns a Crabbe or Cracknell in the fire.

He leads his Wench a Country Horn-pipe Round,

About a May-pole on a Holy-day ;

Kissing his louely Lasse (with Garlands Crownd)

With whoopping heigh-ho singing Care away ;

Thus doth he passe the merry month of May :
And all th'yere after in delight and ioy,
(Scorning a King) he cares for no annoy.

What though with simple cheere he homely fares ?
He Hues content, a King can doo no more ;
Nay not so much, for Kings haue manie cares :
But he hath none ; except it be that sore
Which yong and old, which vexeth ritch and poore,

The pangs of Loue. O ! who can vanquish Loue ?

That conquers Kingdomes, and the Gods aboue ?

Deepe-wounding Arrow, hart-consuming Fire ;
Ruler of Reason, slaue to tyraunt Beautie ;
Monarch of harts, Fuell of fond desire,
Prentice to Folly, foe to faind Duetie.
Pledge of true Zeale, Affections moitie ;

If thou kilst where thou wilt, and whom it list thre.

(Alas) how can a silly Soule resist thee ?

By thee great Collin lost his libertie,

By thee sweet Astrophel forwent his ioy ;

By thee Amyntas wept incessantly,

By thee good Rowland liu'd in great annoy ;

O cruell, peeuish, vylde, blind-seeing Boy:

How canst thou hit their harts, and yet not see ?

(If thou be blinde, as thou art faind to bee).

32 THESHEPHEARDS [%B0avr.nSi

A Shepheard loues no ill, but onely thee ;
He hath no care, but onely by thy causing :
Why doost thou shoot thy cruell shafts at mee ?
Giue me some respite, some short time of pausing :
Still my sweet Loue with bitter lucke th'art sawcing :

Oh, if thou hast a minde to shew thy might ;

Kill mightie Kings, and not a wretched wight.

Yet (O Enthraller of infranchizd harts)
At my poor hart if thou wilt needs be ayming,
Doo me the fauour, show me both thy Darts,
That I may chuse the best for my harts mayming,
(A free consent is priuiledgd from blaming :)

Then pierce his hard hart with thy golden Arrow,
That thou my wrong, that he may rue my sorrow.

But let mee feele the force of thy lead Pyle,
What should I doo with loue when I am old ?
I know not how to flatter, fawne, or smyle ;
Then stay thy hand, 0 cruell Bow-man hold :
For if thou strik'st me with thy dart of gold,
I sweare to thee (by loues immortall curse)
I haue more in my hart, than in my purse.

The more I weepe, the more he bends his Bow,

For in my hart a golden Shaft I finde :

(Cruell, vnkinde) and wilt thou leaue me so ?

Can no remorce nor pittie moue thy minde ?

Is Mercie in the Heauens so hard to finde ?
Oh, then it is no meruaile that on earth
Of kinde Remorce there is so great a dearth.

How happie were a harmles Shepheards life,
If he had neuer knowen what Loue did meane ;
But now fond Loue in euery place is rife,
Staining the purest Soule with spots vncleane,
Making thicke purses, thin : and fat bodies, leane :

Loue is a fiend, a fire, a heauen, a hell ;

Where pleasure, paine, and sad repentance dwell.

t£] CONTENT. 33

There are so manie Danaes nowadayes,
That loue for lucre ; paine for gaine is sold :
No true affection can their fancie please,
Except it be a loue, to raine downe gold
Into their laps, which they wyde open hold :
If legem pone comes, he is receau'd,
When Vix hand habeo is of hope bereau'd.

Thus haue I showed in my Countrey vaine
The sweet Content that Shepheards still inioy ;
The mickle pleasure, and the little paine
That euer doth awayte the Shepheards Boy :
His hart is neuer troubled with annoy.

He is a King, for he commands his Sheepe ;

He knowes no woe, for he doth seldome weepe.

He is a Courtier, for he courts his Loue :
He is a Scholler, for he sings sweet Ditties :
He is a Souldier, for he wounds doth proue ;
He is the fame of Townes, the shame of Citties ;
He scornes false Fortune, put true Vertue pitties.

He is a Gentleman, because his nature

Is kinde and affable to euerie Creature.

Who would not then a simple Shepheard bee,

Rather than be a mightie Monarch made ?

Since he inioyes such perfect libertie,

As neuer can decay, nor neuer fade :

He seldome sits in dolefull Cypresse shade;

But Hues in hope, in ioy, in peace, in blisse :

loying all ioy with this content of his.

But now good-fortune lands my little Boate
Vpon the shoare of his desired rest :
Now I must leaue (awhile) my rurall noate,
To thinke on him whom my soule loueth best ;
He that can make the most vnhappie blest :

In whose sweete lap He lay me downe to sleepe,
And neuer wake till Marble-stones shall weepe.

FINIS.

JM^^

;^44:1M^^

SONNET.

'OB here behold these tributarie Teares
Paid to thy faire, but cruell tyrant Eyes ;
Loe here the blossome of my youthfull

yeares,
Nipt with the fresh of thy Wraths winter,

dyes,

Here on Loues Altar I doo offer vp
This burning hart for my Soules sacrifice ;
Here I receaue this deadly-poysned Cu[p]
Of Circe charm'd ; wherein deepe Magicke lyes.

Then Teares (if thou be happie Teares indeed),
And Hart (if thou be lodged in his brest),
And Cup (if thou canst helpe despaire with speed) ;
Teares, Hart, and Cup conjoyne to make me blest :
Teares moue, Hart win, Cup cause, ruth, loue, desire,
In word, in deed, by moane, by zeale, by fire.

FINIS.

THE COMPLAINT

OF CHASTITIE.
Briefely touching the cause of the

death of Matilda Fitzwalters an English
Ladie ; sometime loued of King lohn^
after poysoned. The Storie is at large
written by Michael Dreyton.

Ou modest Dames, inricht with Chastitie.
Maske your bright eyes with Vestaes sable

Vaile,

Since few are left so faire or chast as shee ;
(Matter for me to weepe, you to bewaile):
For manie seeming so, of Vertue faile ;
Whose louely Cheeks (with rare ver-

million tainted)

Can neuer blush because their faire is
painted.

O faire-foule Tincture, staine of Woman-kinde,
Mother of Mischiefe, Daughter of Deceate,
False traitor to the Soule, blot to the Minde,
Vsurping Tyrant of true Beauties seate,
Right Cousner of the eye, lewd Follies baite,
The flag of filthines, the sinke of shame,
The Diuells dye, dishonour of thy name.

36 THE COM PLAINT

Monster of Art, Bastard of bad Desier,
Il-worshipt Idoll, false Imagerie,
Ensigne of Vice, to thine owne selfe a Her,
Silent Inchaunter, mindes Anatomic,
Sly Bawd to Lust, Pandor to Infamie,

Slaunder of Truth, Truth of Dissimulation ;

Staining our Clymate more than anie Nature.

What shall I say to thee ? thou scorne of Nature,
Blacke spot of sinne, vylde lure of lecherie ;
Iniurious Blame to euerie faemale creature,
Wronger of time, Broker of trecherie,
Trap of greene youth, false Womens witcherie,

Hand-maid of pride, high-way to wickednesse ;

Yet path-way to Repentance, nere the lesse.

Thou dost entice the minde to dooing euill,
Thou setst dissention twixt the man and wife ;
A Saint in show, and yet indeed a deuill :
Thou art the cause of euerie common strife ;
Thou art the life of Death, the death of Life !
Thou doost betray thyselfe to Infamie,
When thou art once discernd by the eye.

Ah, little knew Matilda of thy being,
Those times were pure from all impure complection
Then Loue came at Desert, Desert of seeing,
Then Vertue was the mother of Affection,
(But Beautie now is vnder no subiection),
Then women were the same that men did deeme,
But now they are the same they doo not seeme.

What faemale now intreated of a King
With gold and iewels, pearles and precious stones,
Would willingly refuse so sweete a thing ?
Onely for a little show of Vertue ones ?
Women haue kindnes grafted in their bones.
Gold is a deepe-perswading Orator,
Especially where few the fault abhor.

Barnfield.
Nov. 1594.

OFCHASTITIE.

But yet shee rather deadly poyson chose,
(Oh cruell Bane of most accursed Clime ;)
1* han staine that milk-white Mayden-virgin Rose,
Which shee had kept vnspotted till that time :
And not corrupted with this earthly slime
Her soule shall Hue : inclosd eternally,
In that pure shrine of Immortality.

This is my Doome : and this shall come to passe,
For what are Pleasures but still-vading ioyes ?
Fading as flowers, brittle as a glasse,
Or Potters Clay ; crost with the least annoyes ;
All thinges in this life are but trifling Toyes :
But Fame and Vertue neuer shall decay,
For Fame is Toomblesse, Vertue Hues for aye !

FINIS.

Hellens Rape.

A light Lanthorne for light Ladies.

Written in English Hexameters.

\0uely aLasse, so loued a Lasse, and (alas) such

a louing
Lasse, for a while (but a while) was none such

a sweet bonny Loue-Lasse
As Helen, Msenelaus louing, lou'd, loulie a

loue-lasse,
Till spightfull Fortune from a loue-lasse made

her a loue-lesse

Wife. From a wise woman to a witles wanton abandond,
When her mate (unawares) made warres in Peloponessus,
A didtrous Paris (then a Boy} kept sheepe as a shepheard
On Ida Mountaine, vnknowne to the King for a Keeper
Of sheep, on Ida Mountaine, as a Boy, as a shepheard :
Yet such sheep he kept, and was so seemelie a shepheard,
Seemlie a Boy, so seemlie a youth, so seemlie a Younker,
That on Ida was not such a Boy, such a youth, such a Younker.
Sonne now reconciled to the Father, fained a letter
Sent him by lupiter (the greatest God in Olympus)
For to repaire with specde to the brauest Grecian Haucn,

SS] HELENSRAPE. 39

to redeeme againe Hesyone latelie reuolted
From Troy 6y Aiax, whom she had newly betrothed.
Well, so well he told his tale to his Aunt Amaryllis
That Amaryllis, (his Aunt,) obtaind aid of his aged
Syre, that he sent him a ship, and made Capten of Argus.
Great store went to Greece with lust-bewitched Alexis,
Tel am our, and Tydias : with these he sliceth the salt seas,
The salt seas slicing, at length he comes to the firme land,
Firme land an auntient Hand cald old Lacedaemon.
Argus (eye full Earle) when first the ken of a Castle
Hehadspide bespake : (to the Mate, to the men, to the Mates-man,
Lo behold of Greece (quoth he) the great Cytadella.
(Ycleaped Menela) so tearmed* of Deliaes Husband :
Happie Helen, Womem most woonder, beautifull Helen.
Oh would God (quoth he] with aflattring Tongue he repeated :
Oh would God (quoth he) that I might deserue to be husband
To such a happie huswife, to such a beautifull Helen.
This he spake to intice the minde of a lecherous young-man :
But what spurres need now, for an vntatrid Titt to be trotting :
Or to add old Oile to the flame, new flaxe to the fier :
Paris heard him hard, and gaue good eare to his hearkening :
A nd then his loue tp a lust, his lust was turnd to a fier,
Fier was turnd to a flame, and flame was turnd to a burning
Brand : and mothers Dreame was then most truelie resolued.
Well so far th'are come, that now th'are come to the Castle,
Castle all of stone, yet euery stone was a Castle :
Euerie foote had a Fort, and euerie Fort had a fountaine,
Euerie fountaine a spring, and euerie spring had a spurting
Streame : so strong without, within, so stately a building,
Neuer afore was scene ; If neuer afore Polyphoebe
Was seene : was to be seene, if nere to be scene was Olympus.
Flowers were framd of flints, Walls, Rubies, Rafters of Argent:
Pauement of Chrisolite, Windows contriu'd of a Cristall :
Vessels were of gold, with gold was each thing adorned :
Golden Webs more worth than a wealthy Souldan of Egypt,
And her selfe more worth than a wealthy Souldan of Egypt :

40 HELENS RAPE. [

A nd her selfe more worth than all the wealth shee possessed ;
Selfe ? indeede such a selfe, as thundring loue in Olympus,
Though he were father could finde in his hart to be husband.
Embassage ended, to the Queene offaire Lacedsemon ;
(H appie King of a Queene so faire, of a Countrey so famous)
Embassage ended, a Banquet braue was appointed :
Sweet Repast for a Prince, fine lunkets fit for a Kings sonne.
Biskets and Carrawayes, Comfets, Tart, Plate, lelley, Ginger
bread,

Lymons and Medlars : and Dishes moe by a thousand.
First they fell to the feast, and after fall to a Dauncing,
And from a Dance to a Trance, from a Trance they fell to a falling,
Either in other armes, and either in armes of another.
Pastime ouer-past, and Banquet duely prepared,
Deuoutly pared : Each one hies home to his owne home,
Saue Lord and Ladie ; Young Lad, but yet such an old Lad,
In such a Ladies lappe, at such a slipperie by-blow,
That in a world so vvilde, could not be found such a wilie
Lad : in an Age so old, could not be found such an old lad :
Old lad, and bold lad, such a Boy, such a lustie luuentus :
Well to their vvorke they goe, and both they iumble in one Bed :
V/orke so well they like, that they still like to be working :
For Aurora mounts before he leaues to be mounting :
And Astraea fades before she faints to befalling :
(Helen a light Huswife, now a lightsome starre in Olympus.)

P.INIS.

Cynthia.

\ WITH C E R-

taine Sonnets, and

the Legend of

Cassandra.

od cupio ncqueo.

At London,

Printed for Humfrey

Loivnes, and are to bee

sold at the West doore

of Paules. 1595.

To the Right Honorable, and

most noble-minded Lorde,

William Stanley, Earle of
Darby, &c.

\Ight Honorable, the dutifull affection I beare to your
manie vertues, is cause, that to manifest my loue to
your Lordship, I am constrained to shew my simple-
nes to the world. Many are they that admire your
worth, of the which number, I (though the meanest in abilitie,yet
with the formost in affection) am one that most desire to serue, and
onely to serue your Honour.

Small is the gift, but great is my good-will ; the which, by how
much the lesse I am able to expresse it, by so much the more it is
infinite. Liue long : and inherit your Predecessors vertues, as
you doe their dignitie and estate. This is my wish : the which your
honorable excellent giftes doe promise me to obtaine : and whereof
these few rude and vnpollished lines, are a true (though an vn-
deseruing) testimony. If my ability were better, the signes should
be greater ; but being as it is, your honour must take me as I am,
not as I should be. My yeares being so young, my perfection can
not be greater : But howsoeuer it is, yours 'it is ; and I my selfe am
yours ; in all humble seruice, most ready to be commaunded.

Richard Barnefeilde.

"To the curteous Gentlemen Readers.

Entlemen ; the last Terme [i.e., November ^ 1594]
there came forth a little toy of mine, intituled,
The affectionate Shepheard : In the which, his
Country Content found such friendly fauor, that it
hath incouraged me to publish my second fruites.
The affectionate Shepheard being the first : howsoeuer unde-
seruedly (I protest) I haue beene thought (of some) to haue
beene the authour of two Books heretofore. I neede not to
name them, because they are two-well knowne already : nor
will I deny them, because they are dislik't ; but because
they are not mine. This protestation (I hope) will satisfie
th'indifferent : as for them that are maliciously enuious, as
I cannot, so I care not to please. Some there were, that
did interpret The affectionate Shepheard, otherwise then (in
truth) I meant, touching the subiect thereof, to wit, the loue
of a Shepheard to a boy ; a fault, the which I will not
excuse, because I neuer made. Onely this, I will vnshaddow
my conceit : being nothing else, but an imitation of Virgill,
in the second Eglogue of Alexis. In one or two places (in
this Booke) I vse the name of Eliza pastorally : wherein,
lest any one should misconster my meaning (as I hope none
will) I haue here briefly discouered my harmeles conceipt as
concerning that name : whereof once (in a simple Shepheards
deuice) I wrot this Epigramme.

One name there is, which name aboue all other
I most esteeme, as time and place shall proue :
The one is Vesta, th'other Cupids Mother,
The first my Goddesse is, the last my loue ;

Subiect to Both I am : to that by berth ;

To this for beautie ; fairest on the earth.

^ Thus, hoping you will beare with my rude conceit of
Cynthia, (if for no other cause, yet, for that it is the first
imitation of the verse of that excellent Poet, Maister
Spencer, in his Fayrie Queene) I will leaue you to the reading
of that, which I so much desire may breed your Delight.

Richard Barnefeild.

T. T. in commendation of the

Authour his worke.

Hylom that in a shepheards gray coate masked,
(Where masked loue the nonage of his skill)
Reares new Eagle-winged pen, new tasked,
To scale the by-clift Muse sole-pleasing hill :
Dropping sweete Nectar poesie from his quill,
Admires faire CYNTHIA with his iuory pen
Faire CYNTHIA lou'd, fear'd, of Gods and men.

Downe sliding from that cloudes ore-pearing mounteine :
Decking with double grace the neighbour plaines, [fountain,
Drawes christall dew, from P E G A S E foote-sprung
Whose flower set banks, delights, sweet choice containes :
Nere yet discouerd to the country swaines :

Heere bud those branches, which adorne his turtle,
With loue made garlands, of heart-bleeding Mirtle.

Rays'd from the cynders, of the thrice-sact towne :
I L L I O N S sooth-telling S Y B I L L I S T appeares,
Eclipsing PHOEBUS loue, with scornefull frowne,
Whose tragicke end, affords warme-water teares,
(For pitty-wanting P A C O E, none forbeares)
Such period haps, to beauties price ore-priz'd :
Where I A N V S-faced loue, doth lurke disguiz'd.

Nere-waining CYNTHIA yeelds thee triple thankes,
Whose beames vnborrowed darke the worlds faire eie
And as full streames that euer fill their bankes,
So those rare Sonnets, where wits ripe doth lie,
With Troian Nimph, doe soare thy fame to skie.
And those, and these, contend thy Muse to raise
(Larke mounting Muse) with more then common praise.

ENG. Sea. LIB. No. 14. c

315 3b 85 3J5 eQ3 dD 35 65 35 35 35 35 eJS 35 35 35 35 35 35 35 35 d5 35 35

oRfci J*. ^ vflfc- Jq& J3£. ^ ^ J>£< *• o*- *^ *; o*- >*; J^ v*. ^. oR^. JR&. J^ >*• *- .^

To his Mistresse.

Right Starre of Beauty, fairest Faire aliue,
Rare president of peerelesse chastity ;
(In whom the Muses and the Graces striue,
Which shall possesse the chiefest part of thee : )
Oh let these simple lines accepted bee :
Which here I offer at thy sacred shrine :
Sacred, because sweet Beauty is diuine.

And though I cannot please each curious eare,
With sugred Noates of heauenly Harmonic :
Yet if my loue shall to thy selfe appeare,
No other Muse I will inuoke but thee :
And if thou wilt my faire Thalia be,

He sing sweet Hymnes and praises to thy name,
In that cleare Temple of eternall Fame.

But ah (alas) how can mine infant Muse
(That neuer heard of Helicon before)
Performe my promise past : when they refuse
Poore Shepheards Plaints ? yet will I still adore
Thy sacred Name, al though I write no more ;

Yet hope I shall, if this accepted bee :

If not, in silence sleepe eternally.

CYN T H I A.

\Ow was the Welkyn all inuelloped

With duskie Mantle of the sable Night :
And CYNTHIA lifting vp her drouping

head,
Blusht at the Beautie of her borrowed

light,
When Sleepe now summon'd euery

mortal wight.
Then loe (me thought) I saw or seem'd to see,
An heauenly Creature like an Angell bright,
That in great haste came pacing towards me :
Was neuer mortall eye beheld so faire a Shee.

Thou lazie man (quoth she) what mak'st thou heere
(Luld in the lap of Honours Enimie ?)
I heere commaund thee now for to appeare
(By vertue of I o v E s mickle Maiestie)
In yonder Wood. (Which with her ringer shee
Out-poynting) had no sooner turn'd her face,
And leauing mee to muze what she should bee,
Yuanished into some other place :

But straite (me thought) I saw a rout of heauenlie Race.

48 CYNTHIA. [

R. Bamfield.
Jan. 1595.

Downe in a Dale, hard by a Forrest side,
(Vnder the shaddow of a loftie Pine,)
Not far from whence a trickling streame did glide,
Did nature by her secret art combine,
A pleasant Arbour, of a spreading Vine :
Wherein Art stroue with nature to compaire,
That made it rather seeme a thing diuine
Being scituate all in the open Aire :

A fairer nere was seene, if any scene so faire.

There might one see, and yet not see (indeede)
Fresh Flora flourishing in chiefest Prime,
Arrayed all in gay and gorgeous weede,
The Primrose and sweet-smelling Eglantine,
As fitted best beguiling so the time :
And euer as she went she strewd the place,
Red-roses mixt with Daffadillies fine,
For Gods and Goddesses, that in like case

In this same order sat, with il-beseeming grace.

First, in a royall Chaire of massie gold,

(Bard all about with plates of burning steele)

Sat lupiter most glorious to behold,

And in his hand was placed Fortunes wheele :

The which he often turn'd, and oft did reele.

And next to him, in griefe and gealouzie,

(If sight may censure what the heart doth feele)

In sad lament was placed Mercurie ;

That dying seem'd to weep, and weeping seem'd to die.

On th'other side, aboue the other twaine,
(Delighting as it seem'd to sit alone)
Sat Mulciber ; in pride and high disdaine,
Mounted on high vpon a stately throne,
And euen with that I heard a deadly grone :
Muzing at this, and such an vncouth sight,
(Not knowing what shoulde make that piteous mone)
I saw three furies, all in Armour dight,

With euery one a Lampe, and euery one a light.

:] CYNTHIA 49

I deemed so ; nor was I much deceau'd,
For poured forth in sensuall Delight,
There might I see of Sences quite bereau'd
King Priams Sonne, that Alexander hight
(Wrapt in the Mantle of eternall Night.)
And vnder him, awaiting for his fall,
Sate Shame, here Death, and there sat fel Despight,
That with their Horrour did his heart appall :

Thus was his Blisse to Bale, his Hony turn'd to gall.

In which delight feeding mine hungry eye,
Of two great Goddesses a sight I had,
And after them in wondrous lollity,
(As one that inly ioy'd, so was she glad)
The Queene of Loue full royallie yclad,
In glistring Gold, and peerelesse precious stone,
There might I spie : and her Companion had,
Proud Paris, Nephew to Laomedon,

That afterward did cause the Death of many a one.

By this the formost melting all in teares,

And rayning downe resolued Pearls in showers,
Gan to approach the place of heauenly Pheares,
And with her weeping, watring all their Bowers,
Throwing sweet Odors on those fading flowers,
At length, she them bespake thus mournfullie.
High loue (quoth she) and yee Ccelestiall powers,
That here in ludgement sit twixt her and mee,

Now listen (for a while) and iudge with equitie.

Sporting our selues to day, as wee were woont
(I meane, I, Pallas, and the Queene of Loue.)
Intending with Diana for to hunt,
On Ida Mountaine top our skill to proue,
A golden Ball was trindled from aboue,
And on the Rinde was writ this Poesie,
PvLCHERiM^Efor which a while we stroue,
Each saying shee was fairest of the three,

When loe a shepheards Swaine not far away we see.

50 CYNTHIA. [R'jB

I spi'd him first, and spying thus bespake,
Shall yonder Swaine vnfolde the mysterie ?
Agreed (quoth Venus) and by Stygian Lake,
To whom he giues the ball so shall it bee :
Nor from his censure will I flie, quoth shee,
(Poynting to Pallas) though I loose the gole.
Thus euery one yplac'd in her degree,
The Shepheard comes, whose partial eies gari role,

And on our beuties look't, and of our beuties stole.

I promis'd wealth, Minerua promised wit,
(Shee promis'd wit to him that was vnwise,)
But he (fond foole) had soone refused it,
And minding to bestow that glorious Prize,
On Venus, that with pleasure might suffize
His greedie minde in loose lasciuiousnes :
Vpon a sudden, wanting goode aduice,
Holde heere (quoth he) this golden Ball possesse,

Which Paris giues to thee for meede of worthines,

Thus haue I shew'd the summe of all my sute,
And as a Plaintiffe heere appeale to thee,
And to the rest. Whose folly I impute
To filthie lust, and partialitie,
That made him iudge amisse : and so doo we
(Quoth Pallas, Venus,) nor will I gaine-say,
Although it's mine by right, yet willinglie,
I heere disclaime my title and obey :

When silence being made, loue thus began to saie.

Thou Venus, art my darling, thou my deare,
(Minerua,) shee, my sister and my wife :
So that of all a due respect I beare,
Assign'd as one to end this doubtfull strife,
(Touching your forme, your fame, your loue, your life)
Beauty is vaine much like a gloomy light,
And wanting wit is counted but a trife,
Especially when Honour's put to flight :

Thus of a louely, soone becomes a loathly sight.

™:] CYNTHIA. 51

Wit without wealth is bad, yet counted good,

wealth wanting wisdom's worse, yet deem'd as wel,

From whence (for ay) doth flow, as from a flood,

A pleasant Poyson, and a heauenly Hell,

where mortall men do couet still to dwell.

Yet one there is to Vertue so inclin'd,

That as for Maiesty she beares the Bell,

So in the truth who tries her princelie minde,

Both Wisdom, Beauty, Wealth, and all in her. shall find.

In Westerne world amids the Ocean maine,
In compleat Vertue shining like the Sunne,
In great Renowne a maiden Queene doth raigne,
Whose royall Race, in Ruine first begun,
Till Heauens bright Lamps dissolue shall nere be done :
In whose faire eies Loue linckt with vertues been,
In euerlasting Peace and Vnion.
Which sweet Consort in her full well beseeme

Of Bounty, and of Beauty fairest Fayrie Queene.

And to conclude, the gifts in her yfound,
Are all so noble, royall, and so rare,
That more and more in her they doe abound ;
In her most peerelesse Prince without compare,
Endowing still her minde with vertuous care :
That through the world (so wide) the flying fame,
(And Name that Enuies selfe cannot impaire,)
Is blown of this faire Queen, this gorgeous dame,

Fame borrowing al men's mouths to royalize the same.

And with this sentence lupiter did end,

This is the Pricke (quoth he), this is the praies,
To whom, this as a Present I will send,
That shameth Cynthia in her siluer Raies,
If so you three this deed doe not displease.
Then one, and all, and euery one of them,
To her that is the honour of her daies,
A second ludith inlERVSALEM.

To her we send this Pearle, this lewell, and this lem.

CYNTHIA.

Then call'd he vp the winged Mercury,

(The mighty Messenger of Gods enrold,)

And bad him hither hastily to hie,

Whom tended by her Nymphes he should behold,

(Like Pearles ycouched all in shining gold.)

And euen with that, from pleasant slumbring sleepe,

(Desiring much these wonders to vnfold)

I wak'ning, when Aurora gan to peepe,
Depriu'd so soone of my sweet Dreame, gan almost weepe.

The Conclusion.

Hus, sacred Virgin, Muse of chastitie,
This difference is betwixt the Moone and thee :
Shee shines by Night ; but thou by Day do'st

shine :

Shee Monthly changeth ; thou dost nere decline :
And as the Sunne, to her, doth lend his light,
So hee, by thee, is onely made so bright :
Yet neither Sun, nor Moone, thou canst be named,
Because thy light hath both their beauties shamed :
Then, since an heauenly Name doth thee befall,
Thou VIRGO art : (if any Signe at all).

FINIS.

iso N N Ers.~\

SON N E T. I.

Porting at fancie, setting light by loue,
There came a theefe, and stole away my

heart,
(And therefore robd me of my chiefest

part)

Yet cannot Reason him a felon proue.
For why his beauty (my hearts thiefe)

amrmeth,

Piercing no skin (the bodies fensiue wall)
And hauing leaue, and free consent withall,
Himselfe not guilty, from loue guilty tearmeth,
Conscience the ludge, twelue Reasons are the lurie,
They finde mine eies the be[a]utie t' haue let in,
And on this verdict giuen, agreed they bin,
Wherefore, because his beauty did allure yee,
Your Doome is this : in teares still to be drowned,
When his faire forehead with disdain is frowned.

- R. Barnfield.

54 . Jan. 159S.

SONNET. II.

E[a]uty and Maiesty are falne at ods,

Th'one claimes his cheeke, the other claimcs

his chin;

Then Vertue comes, and puts her title in.
(Quoth she) I make him like th'immortall Gods.
(Quoth Maiestie) I owne his lookes, his Brow,
His lips, (quoth Loue) his eies, his faire is mine.
And yet (quoth Maiesty) he is not thine,
I mixe Disdaine with Loues congealed Snow.
I, but (quoth Loue) his lockes are mine (by right)
His stately gate is mine (quoth Maiestie,)
And mine (quoth Vertue) is his Modestie.
Thus as they striue about this heauenly wight,
At last the other two to Vertue yeeld,
The lists of Loue, fought in faire Beauties field.

SON N E T. III.

He Stoicks thinke, (and they come neere the truth,)
That vertue is the chiefest good of all,
The Academicks on Idea call.
The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth,
The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie,

To be the chiefest good aboue all other,
One man, thinks this : and that conceaues another :
So that in one thing very few agree.
Let Stoicks haue their Vertue if they will,
And all the rest their chiefe-supposed good,
Let cruell Martialists delight in blood,
And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill :
My chiefest good, my chiefe felicity,
Is to be gazing on my loues faire eie.

Sonnets.] 55

SON N E T. 1 1 1 1.

Wo stars there are in one faire firmament,
(Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face),
Which other stars in brightnes doe disgrace,
As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent.
Nor are they common natur'd stars : for why,

These stars when other shine vaile their pure light,
And when all other vanish out of sight,
They adde a glory to the worlds great eie.
By these two stars my life is onely led,

In them I place my ioy, in them my pleasure,
Loue's piercing Darts, and Natures precious treasure
With their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed :
Then when my sunne is absent from my sight
How can it chuse (with me) but be dark night ?

SON N E T. V.

T is reported of faire Thetis Sonne,
(Achilles famous for his chiualry,
His noble minde and magnanimity,)
That when the Troian wars were new begun,
Whos'euer was deepe-wounded with his speare,
Could neuer be recured of his maime,
Nor euer after be made whole againe :
Except with that speares rust he holpen were.
Euen so it fareth with my fortune now,
Who being wounded with his piercing eie,
Must either thereby finde a remedy,
Or els to be releeu'd, I know not how.

Then if thou hast a minde still to annoy me,
Kill me with kisses, if thou wilt destroy me.

5 6 {Sonnets. %™:

SON N E T. VI.

Weet Corrall lips, where Nature's treasure lies,
The balme of blisse, the soueraigne salue of

sorrow,

The secret touch of loues heart-burning arrow,
Come quench my thirst or els poor Daphnis dies.
One night I dream'd (alas twas but a Dreame)
That I did feele the sweetnes of the same,
Where-with inspir'd, I young againe became,
And from my heart a spring of blood did streame,
But when I wak't, I found it nothing so,

Saue that my limbs (me thought) did waxe more strong
And I more lusty far, and far more yong.
This gift on him rich Nature did bestow.
Then if in dreaming so, I so did speede,
What should I doe, if I did so indeede ?

SONNET. VII.

Weet Thames I honour thee, not for thou art
The chiefest Riuer of the fairest He,
Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile,
But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart,
For on thy waues, (thy Christal-billow'd waues,)
My fairest faire, my siluer Swan is swimming :
Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming :
Whilst Neptune his faire feete with water laues,
Neptune, I feare not thee, not yet thine eie,
And yet (alas) Apollo lou'd a boy,
And Cyparissus was Siluanus ioy.
No, no, I feare none but faire Thetis, I,
For if she spie my Loue, (alas) aie me,
My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie.

R. Barnfield. C/i4*4*/7/c 1 C *?

jan. 1595. sonnets. j 5 7

SONNET. VIII.

Ometimes I wish that I his pillow were,

So might I steale a kisse, and yet not scene,
So might I gaze vpon his sleeping eine;
Although I did it with a panting feare :
But when I well consider how vaine my wish is,
Ah foolish Bees (thinke I) that doe not sucke
His lips for hony ; but poore flowers doe plucke
Which haue no sweet in them : when his sole kisses,
Are able to reuiue a dying soule.

Kisse him, but sting him not, for if you doe,
His angry voice your flying will pursue :
But when they heare his tongue, what can controule,
Their back-returne ? for then they plaine may see,
How hony -combs from his lips dropping bee.

SONNET. IX.

I ana (on a time) walking the wood,

To sport herselfe, of her faire traine forlorne,
Chaunc't for to pricke herfoote against a thorne,
And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood.
No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight,

But loues faire Queen came there away by chance,
And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance,
She put the blood into a christall bright,
When being now come vnto mount Rhodope,

With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow,
And blends it with this blood ; from whence doth grow
A louely creature, brighter than the Dey.
And being christned in faire Paphos shrine,
She call'd him Ganymede : as all diuine.

58 \_Sonnets. ™51t

SON N E T. X.

was my loue, thus was my Ganymed,
(Heauens ioy, worlds wonder, natures fairest

work,

In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke)
Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed,
And for sweete Venus only form'd his face,
And his each member delicately framed,
And last of all faire Ganymede him named,
His limbs (as their Creatrix) her imbrace.
But as for his pure, spotles, vertuous minde,
Because it sprung of chaste Dianaes blood,
(Goddesse of Maides, directresse of all good,)
Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde.
And thus it is : as far as I can proue,
He loues to be beloued, but not to loue.

SONNET XI.

Ighing, and sadly sitting by my Loue,

He ask't the cause of my hearts sorrowing,
Coniuring me by heauens eternall King
To tell the cause which me so much did moue.
Compell'd : (quoth I) to thee will I confesse,
Loue is the cause ; and only loue it is
That doth depriue me of my heauenly blisse.
Loue is the paine that doth my heart oppresse.
And what is she (quoth he) whom thou dos't loue ?
Looke in this glasse (quoth I) there shalt thou see
The perfect forme of my faelicitie.
When, thinking that it would strange Magique proue,
He open'd it : and taking of the couer,
He straight perceau'd himselfe to be my Louer.

R. Barnfield. C/i*» *»/?/r "1 r r\

jan. 1595. Sonnets.] 59

SONNET. XII.

Ome talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy,

And some of faire Adonis make their boast,
Some talke of him whom louely Lczda lost,
And some of Ecchoes loue that was so coy.
They speake by heere-say, I of perfect truth,
They partially commend the persons named,
And for them, sweet Encomions haue framed :
I onely t'him haue sacrifized my youth.
As for those wonders of antiquitie,

And those whom later ages haue inioy'd,
(But ah what hath not cruell death destroide ?
Death, that enuies this worlds felicitie),
They were (perhaps) lesse faire then Poets write.
But he is fairer then I can indite.

SONNET. XIII.

Peake Eccho, tell; how may I call my loue? Loue.
But how his Lamps that are so christa-

line ? Eyne.

Oh happy starrs that make your heauens diuine :
And happy lems that admiration moue.
How tearm'st his golden tresses wau'd with aire ? Haire.
Oh louely haire of your more-louely Maister,
Image of loue, faire shape of Alablaster,
Why do'st thou driue thy Louer to dispaire ?
How do'st thou cal the bed wher beuty grows ? Rose.
Faire virgine-Rose, whose mayden blossoms couer
The milke-white Lilly, thy imbracing Louer :
Whose kisses makes thee oft thy red to lose.

And blushing oft for shame, when he hath kist thee,
He vades away, and thou raing'st where it list thee.

60 {Sonnets. ^tt

S 0 N N E T. X I III.

Ere, hold this gloue (this milk-white cheueril gloue)
Not quaintly ouer-wrought with curious knots,
Not deckt with golden spangs, nor siluer spots,
Yet wholsome for thy hand as thou shalt proue.
Ah no; (sweet boy) place this gloue neere thy heart,
Weare it, and lodge it still within thy brest,
So shalt thou make me (most vnhappy,) blest.
So shalt thou rid my paine, and ease my smart :
How can that be (perhaps) thou wilt reply,
A gloue is for the hand not for the heart,
Nor can it well be prou'd by common art,
Nor reasons rule. To this, thus answere I :
If thou from gloue do'st take away the g,
Then gloue is loue : and so I send it thee.

SONNET. XV.

[H] fairest Ganymede, disdaine me not,

Though silly Sheepeheard I, presume to loue thee,
Though my harsh songs and Sonnets cannot

moue thee,
Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot.
Apollo, loue, and many Gods beside,

S' daind not the name of cuntry shepheards swains,
Nor want we pleasure, though we take some pains,
We Hue contentedly : a thing call'd pride,
Which so corrupts the Court and euery place,

(Each place I meane where learning is neglected,
And yet of late, euen learnings selfe's infected)
I know not what it meanes, in any case :
Wee onely (when Molorchus gins to peepe)
Learne for to folde, and to vnfold our sheepe.

Sonnets.] 61

SONNET. XV L

[Ong haue I long'd to see my Loue againe,

Still haue I wisht, but neuer could obtaine it ;
Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it)
"^ Would I desire my loues sweet precious gaine.
Yet in my soule I see him euerie day,

See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce,
But (ah) what is of long continuance,
Where Maiestie and Beautie beares the sway?
Sometimes, when I imagine that I see him,
(As loue is full of foolish fantasies)
Weening to kisse his lips, as my loues fee's,
I feele but Aire : nothing but Aire to bee him.
Thus with Ixion, kisse I clouds in vaine :
Thus with Ixion, feele I endles paine.

SONNET. XVII.

Herry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,

Might not compare with his pure luorie white,
On whose faire front a Poets pen may write,
Whose rosiate red excels the crimson grape,
His loue-enticing delicate soft limbs,

Are rarely fram'd t'intrap poore gazing eies :
His cheekes, the Lillie and Carnation dies,
With louely tincture which Apolloes dims.
His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet,

His mouth a Hiue, his tongue a hony-combe,
Where Muses (like Bees) make their mansion.
His teeth pure Pearle in blushing Correll set.
Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring,
Be slow to loue, and quicke to hate, enduring ?

ENG. SCH. LIB. No. 14. 6

62 {Sonnets. R'£r

SONNET. XVIII.

Ot Megabytes nor Cleonymus,

(Of whom great Plutarch makes such mention,
Praysing their faire with rare inuention)
As Ganymede were halfe so beauteous.
They onely pleas'd the eies of two great Kings,
But all the worlde at my loue stands amazed,
Nor one that on his Angels face hath gazed,
But (rauisht with delight) him Presents brings.
Some weaning Lambs, and some a suckling Kyd,
Some Nuts, and fil-beards, others Peares and Plums,
Another with a milk-white Heyfar comes ;
As lately JEgons man (Damatas} did :

But neither he, nor all the Nymphs beside,
Can win my Ganymede, with them t'abide.

SONNET. XIX.

H no ; nor I my selfe : though my pure loue

(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still beene pure,
And euen till my last g.aspe shall aie endure,
Could euer thy obdurate beuty moue :
Then cease oh Goddesse sonne (for sure thou art,
A Goddesse sonne. that canst resist desire)
Cease thy hard heart, and entertaine loues fire,
Within thy sacred breast : by Natures art.
And as I loue thee more then any Creature,
(Loue thee, because thy beautie is diuine ;
Loue thee, because my selfe, my soule is thine :
Wholie deuoted to thy louelie feature),,
Euen so of all the vowels, I and V,
Are dearest vnto me,, as doth ensue..

R-jBaanr!t£ Sonnets.] 63

SON N E T. XX.

Ut now my Muse toyld with continuall care,
Begins to faint, and slacke her former pace,
Expecting fauour from that heauenly grace,
That maie (in time) her feeble strength repaire.
Till when (sweete youth) th'essence of my soule,
(Thou that dost sit and sing at my hearts griefe.
Thou that dost send thy shepheard no reliefe)
Beholde, these lines ; the sonnes of Teares and Dole.
Ah had great Colin chiefe of sheepheards all,
Or gentle Rowland, my professed friend,
Had they thy beautie, or my pennance pend,
Greater had beene thy fame, and lesse my fall :
But since that euerie one cannot be wittie,
Pardon I craue of them, and of thee, pitty.

FINIS.

AN ODE.

Ights were short, and daies were long ;
Blossoms on the Hauthorn's hung :
Philomczle (Night-Musiques-King)
Tolde the comming of the spring.
Whose sweete siluer-sounding voice
Made the little birds reioice :
Skipping light from spray to spray,
Till Aurora shew'd the day.
Scarce might one see, when I might see
(For such chaunces sudden bee)
By a well of Marble-stone
A Shepheard lying all alone.
Weepe he did ; and his weeping
Made the fading flowers spring.
Daphnis was his name (I weene)
Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene.
When Aurora saw 'twas he.
Weepe she did for companie :
Weepe she did for her sweete sonne
That (when antique Troy was wonne)
Suffer'd death by lucklesse fate,
Whom she now laments too late :
And each morning (by Cocks crew)
Showers downe her siluer dew.
Whose teares (falling from their spring)
Giue moysture to each liuing thing,
That on earth increase and grow,

] ANODE. 65

Through power of their friendlie foe.

Whose effect when Flora felt,

Teares, that did her bosome melt,

(For who can resist teares often,

But Shee whom no teares can soften ?)

Peering straite aboue the banks,

Shew'd herselfe to giue her thanks.

Wondring thus at Natures worke,

(Wherein many maruailes lurke)

Me thought I heard a dolefull noise,

Consorted with a mournfull voice,

Drawing nie to heare more plaine,

Heare I did, vnto my paine,

(For who is not pain'd to heare

Him in griefe whom heart holdes deare?)

Silly swaine (with griefe ore-gone)

Thus to make his piteous mone.

Loue I did, (alas the while)

Loue I did, but did beguile

My deare loue with louing so,

(Whom as then I did not know.)

Loue I did the fairest boy,

That these fields did ere enioy.

Loue I did, fair Ganymed ;

(Venus darling, beauties bed :)

Him I thought the fairest creature ;

Him the quintessence of Nature :

But yet (alas) I was deceiu'd,

(Loue of reason is bereau'd)

For since then I saw a Lasse.

(Lasse) that did in beauty passe,

(Passe) faire Ganymede as farre

As Phcebus doth the smallest starre.

Loue commaunded me to loue ;

Fancy bade me not remoue

My affection from the swaine

66 AN ODE.

Which he cannot graunt the crauer ?)
Loue at last (though loath) preuailde ;
(Loue) that so my heart assailde ;
Whom I neuer could obtaine :
(For who can obtaine that fauour,
Wounding me with her faire eies,
(Ah how Loue can subtelize,
And deuize a thousand shifts,
How to worke men to his drifts.)
Her it is, for whom I mourne ;
Her, for whom my life I scorne ;
Her, for whom I weepe all day ;
Her, for whom I sigh, and say,
Either She, or els no creature,
Shall enioy my loue : whose feature
Though I neuer can obtaine,
Yet shall my true loue remaine :
Till (my body turn'd to clay)
My poore soule must passe away,
To the heauens ; where (I hope)
Hit shall finde a resting scope :
Then since I loued thee (alone)
Remember me when I am gone.
Scarce had he these last words spoken,
But me thought his heart was broken ;
With great griefe that did abound,
(Cares and griefe the heart confound)
In whose heart (thus riu'd in three)
ELIZA written I might see :
In Caracters of crimson blood,
(Whose meaning well I vnderstood.)
Which, for my heart might not behold,
I hyed me home my sheep to folde.

FINIS.

C AS S A N D R A.

PON a gorgious gold embossed bed, [sunne,
With Tissue curtaines drawne against the
(Which gazers eies into amazement led,
So curiously the workmanship was done,)
Lay faire Cassandra,in her snowie smocke,
Whose lips the Rubies and the pearles
did locke.

And from her luory front hung dangling downe,

A bush of long and louely curled haire ;

Whose head impalled with a precious Crowne

Of orient Pearle, made her to seeme more faire :
And yet more faire she hardly could be thought,
Then Loue and Nature in her face had wrought.

By this, young Phcebus rising from the East,
Had tane a view of this rare Paragon :
Wherewith he soone his radiant beames addresst,
And with great ioy her (sleeping) gazed vpon :

Til at the last, through her light cazements cleare,
He stole a kisse ; and softly call'd her Deare.

Yet not so softly but (therwith awak't,)
Shee gins to open her faire christall couers,
Wherewith the wounded God, for terror quakt,
(Viewing those darts that kill disdained louers :)
And blushing red to see himselfe so shamed
He scorns his Coach, and his owne beauty blamed.

68 CASSA NDRA. [R'

Now with a trice he leaues the azure skies,
(As whilome loue did at Europaes rape,)
And rauisht with her loue-a[l] luring eies,
He turns himselfe into a humane shape :
And that his wish the sooner might ensue,
He sutes himselfe like one of Venus crew.

Vpon his head he wore a Hunters hat
Of crimson veluet, spangd with stars of gold,
Which grac'd his louely face : and ouer that
A siluer hatband ritchly to behold :

On his left shoulder hung a loose Tyara,

As whilome vs'd faire Penthesilea.

Faire Penthesilea th' Amazonian Queene,
When she to Troy came with her warlike band,
Of braue Viragoes glorious to be scene ;
Whose manlike force no power might withstand :
So look't Apollo in his louely weedes,
As he vnto the Troian Damzell speedes.

Not faire, Adonis in his chiefest pride,
Did seeme more faire, then young Apollo seemed,
When he through th'aire inuisibly did glide,
T'obtaine his Loue, which he Angelike deemed ;
Whom finding in her chamber all alone,
He thus begins t'expresse his piteous mone.

O fairest, faire, aboue all faires (quoth hee)
If euer Loue obtained Ladies fauour,
Then shew thy selfe compassionate to me,
Whose head surpriz'd with thy diuine behauior,
Yeelds my selfe captiue to thy conqu'ring eies :
O then shew mercy, do not tyrannize.

Scarce had Apollo vtter'd these last words
(Rayning downe pearle from his immortall eies)
When she for answere, naught but feare affords,
Filling the place with lamentable cries :
But Phoebus fearing much these raging fits,
With sugred kisses sweetely charm'd her lips.

R' Ba,rn"5e9d5.] CASSANDRA. 69

Jan.

(And tells her softly in her softer eare)
That he a God is, and no mortall creature :
Wherewith abandoning all needlesse feare,
(A common frailtie of weake womans nature)
She boldly askes him of his deitie,
Gracing her question with her wanton eie.

Which charge to him no sooner was assignde,

But taking faire Cassandra by the hand

(The true bewraier of his secrete minde)

He first begins to let her vnderstand,

That he from Demogorgon was descended :
Father of th'Earth, of Gods and men commended.

The tenor of which tale he now recites,
Closing each period with a rauisht kisse :
Which kindnes, she vnwillingly requites,
Conioyning oft her Corrall lips to his :

Not that she lou'd the loue of any one ;

But that she meant to cozen him anone.

Hee briefly t'her relates his pedegree :
The sonne of loue, sole guider of the sunne,
He that slue Python so victoriouslie,
He that the name of wisdomes God hath wonne,
The God of Musique, and of Poetry :
Of Phisicke, Learning, and Chirurgery.

All which he eloquently reckons vp,
That she might know how great a God he was :
And being charm'd with Cupid's golden cup
He partiallie vnto her praise doth passe,

Calling her tipe of honour, Queen of beauty :
To whom all eies owe tributary duety.

I loued once, (quoth hee) aie me I lou'd,
As faire a shape as euer nature framed :
Had she not been so hard t'haue beene remou'd,
By birth a sea-Nymph ; cruell Daphne named :
Whom, for shee would not to my will agree,
The Gods transform'd into a Laurell tree.

7o CASSANDRA. [

Ah therefore be not, (with that word he kist her)
Be not (quot[h] he) so proud as Daphne was :
Ne care thou for the anger of my sister,
She cannot, nay she shall not hurt my Cass :

For if she doe, I vow (by dreadfull night)

Neuer againe to lend her of my light.

This said : he sweetly doth imbrace his loue,
Yoaking his armes about her luory necke :
And calls her wanton Venus milk-white Doue,
Whose ruddie lips the damaske roses decke.
And euer as his tongue compiles her praise,
Loue daintie Dimples in her cheekes doth raise.

And meaning now to worke her stratagem
Vpon the silly God, that thinks none ill,
She hugs him in her armes, and kisses him ;
(Th'easlyer to intice him to her will.)
And being not able to maintaine the feeld,
Thus she begins (or rather seemes) to yeeld.

VVoon with thy words, and rauisht with my beauty,

Loe here Cassandra yeelds her selfe to thee,

Requiring nothing for thy vowed duety,

But only firmnesse, Loue, and secrecy :

Which for that now (euen now) I meane to try thee,
A boone I crave ; which thou canst not deny me.

Scarce were these honywords breath'd from her lips,
But he, supposing that she ment good-faith,
Her filed tongues temptations interceps ;
And (like a Nouice,) thus to her he saith :

Aske what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee;

Health, wealth, long life, wit, art, or dignitie.

Here-with she blushing red, (for shame did adde
A crimson tincture to her palish hew,)
Seeming in outward semblance passing glad,
(As one that th'end of her petition knew)
She makes him sweare by vgly Acheron,
That he his promise should performe anon.

CASSANDRA. 71

Which done : relying on his sacred oath,
She askes of him the gift of prophecie :
He (silent) giues consent : though seeming loath
To grant so much to fraile mortalitie :

But since that he his vowes maie not recall,

He giues to her the sp'rite propheticall.

But she no sooner had obtain'd her wish,
When straite vnpris'ning her lasciuiuous armes
From his softe bosom (th'aluary of blisse)
She chastely counterchecks loues hote alarmes :
And fearing lest his presence might offend her,
She slips aside ; and (absent) doth defend her.

(Muliere ne credas, ne mortucz quidem.)

Looke how a brightsome Planet in the skie,
(Spangling the Welkin with a golden spot)
Shootes suddenly from the beholders eie,
And leaues him looking there where she is not :
Euen so amazed Phcebus (to descrie her)
Lookes all about, but no where can espie her.

Not th'hungry Lyon, hauing lost his pray,

With greater furie runneth through the wood,

(Making no signe of momentarie staie,

Till he haue satisfi'd himslfe with blood,)
Then angry Phcebus mounts into the skie :
Threatning the world with his hot-burning eie.

Now nimbly to his glist'ring Coach he skips,
And churlishlie ascends his loftie chaire,
Yerking his head strong lades with yron whips,
Whose fearefull neighing ecchoes through the aire,
Snorting out fierie Sulphure from theire nosethrils :
Whose deadly damp the worlds poore people kils.

Him leaue me (for a while) amids the heauens,
Wreaking his anger on his sturdie steedes :
Whose speedful course the day and night now eeuens,
(The earth dis-robed of her summer weedes)

And nowe black-mantled night with her browne vaile,
Couers each thing that all the world might quaile.

72 CASSANDRA. [R- jBar£

When loe, Cassandra lying at her rest,
(Her rest were restlesse thoughts :) it so befell,
Her minde with multitude of cares opprest,
Requir'd some sleepe her passions to expell .-
Which when sad Morpheus will did vnderstand,
He clos'd her eie-lids with his leaden hand.

Now sleepeth shee : and as shee sleepes, beholde ;
Shee seemes to see the God whom late shee wronged
Standing before her ; whose fierce looks vnfold,
His hidden wrath (to whom iust ire belonged)
Seeing, shee sighs, and sighing quak't for feare,
To see the shaddow of her shame appeare.

Betwixt amaze and dread as shee thus stands,
The fearefull vision drew more neere vnto her :
Aud pynioning her armes in captiue bands
So sure, that mortall wight may not vndoe her,
He with a bloudy knife (oh cruell part,)
With raging fury stabd her to the heart.

Heerewith awaking from her slumbring sleepe,
(For feare, and care, are enemies to rest :)
At such time as Aurora gins to peepe
And shew her selfe ; far orient in the East :

Shee heard a voice which said : O wicked woman,
Why dost thou stil the gods to vengeance summon ?

Thou shalt (indeede) fore-tell of things to come ;

And truely, too ; (for why my vowes are past)

But heare the end of loues eternall doome :

Because thy promise did so little last,

Although thou tell the truth, (this gift I giue thee)
Yet for thy falsehood, no man shall beleeue thee.

And (for thy sake) this pennance I impose

Vpon the remnant of all woman kinde,

For that they be such truth professed foes ;

A constant woman shall be hard to finde :

And that all flesh at my dread name may tremble,
When they weep most, then shall they most dissemble.

^:] CASSANDRA. 73

This said Apollo then : And since that time
His words haue proved true as Oracles:
Whose turning thoughtes ambitiously doe clime
To heauens height ; and world with lightnes tils :

Whose sex are subject to inconstancie,

As other creatures are to destinie.

Yet famous Sabrine on thy banks doth rest
The fairest Maide that euer world admired :
Whose constant minde, with heauenly gifts possest
Makes her rare selfe of all the world desired.

In whose chaste thoughts no vanitie doth enter ;

So pure a minde Endymions Love hath lent her.

Queene of my thoughts, but subiect of my verse,
(Divine Eliza) pardon my defect :
Whose artlesse pen so rudely doth reherse
Thy beauties worth ; (for want of due respect)

Oh pardon thou the follies of my youth ;

Pardon my faith, my loue, my zeale, my truth.

But to Cassandra now : who hauing heard

The cruell sentence of the threatning voice ;

At length (too late) begins to waxe affeard,

Lamenting much her vnrepentant choice :
And seeing her hard hap without reliefe,
She sheeds salt teares in token of her griefe.

Which when Aurora saw, and saw t'was shee,
Euen shee her selfe whose far-renowmed fame
Made all the world to wonder at her beauty,
It mou'd compassion in this ruthfull Dame :
And thinking on her Sonnes sad destinie,
With mournfull teares she beares her companie.

Great was the mone, which faire Cassandra made :
Greater the kindnesse, which Aurora shew'd :
Whose sorrow with the sunne began to fade,
And her moist teares on th'earths green grasse bestow'd :
Kissing the flowers with her siluer dew,
Whose fading beautie, seem'd her case to rew.

CASSANDRA. [R- Jr

Scarce was the louely Easterne Queene departed,
From stately Ilion (whose proud-reared wals
Seem'd to controule the cloudes, till Vulcan darted
Against their Tower his burning fier-bals)

When sweet Cassandra (leauing her soft bed)

In seemeJy sort her selfe apparelled.

And hearing that her honourable Sire,

(Old princely Pryamus Troy's aged King)

Was gone into loues Temple, to conspire

Against the Greekes, (whom he to war did bring)
Shee, (like a Furie), in a bedlam rage,
Runs gadding thither, his fell wrath t'assuage.

But not preuailing : truely she fore-tolde
The fall of Troy (with bold erected face :)
They count her hare-brain'd, mad, and ouer-bold,
To presse in presence in so graue a place :

But in meane season Paris he is gone,

To bring destruction on faire Ilion.

What, ten-yeeres siedge by force could not subuert,
That, two false traitors in one night destroi'd :
Who richly guerdon'd for their bad desert,
Was of JEneas but small time inioi'd :

Who, for concealement of Achilles loue,

Was banished ; from Ilion to remoue.

King Pry am dead and all the Troians slaine ;
(His sonnes, his friends and deere confederates)
And lots now cast for captiues that remaine,
(Whom Death hath spared for more cruell fates)
Cassandra then to Agamemnon fell,
With whom a Lemman she disdain'd to dwell.

She, weepes ; he, wooes ; he would, but she would not
He, tell's his birth ; shee, pleades virginitie :
He saith, selfe-pride doth rarest beauty blot :
(And with that word he kist her louingly :)
Shee, yeeldingly resists ; he faines to die :
Shee, fall's for feare ; he, on her feareleslie.

*ja CASSANDRA. 75

But this braue generall of all the Greekes,
Was quickly foyled at a womans hands,
For who so rashly such incounters seekes,
Of hard mis-hap in danger euer stands :

Onely chaste thoughts, vertuous abstinence,.

Gainst such sweet poyson is the sur'st defence.

But who can shun the force of beauties blow ?
Who is not rauisht with a louely looke ?
Grac'd with a wanton eie, (the hearts dumb show)
Such fish are taken with a siluer hooke :

And when true loue cannot these pearles obtaine

Vnguentum Album is the only meane.

Farre be it from my thought (diuinest Maid)

To haue relation to thy heauenly hew,

(In whose sweete voice the Muses are imbaid)

No pen can paint thy commendation due :
Saue only that pen, which na pen can be,
An Angels quill, to make a pen for thee.

But to returne to these vnhappie Loners,

(Sleeping securely in each others armes)

Whose sugred ioies nights sable mantle couers,

Little regarding their ensuing harmes :

Which afterward they iointlie both repented :
" Fate is fore-seene, but neuer is preuented."

Which saying to be true, this lucklesse Dame
Approued in the sequele of her story :
Now waxing pale, now blushing red (for shame),
She scales her lips with silence (womens glory)
Till Agamemnon vrging her replies,
Thus of his death she truely prophecies.

The day shall come, (quoth she) 0 dismal daie !

When thou by false &gistus shalt be slaine :

Heere could she tell no more ; but made a stay.

(From further speech as willing to refraine :)
Not knowing then, nor little did she thinke,
That she with him of that same cup must drinke

76 CASSANDRA. [R-jBr?5e'

But what ? (fond man) he laughs her skil to scorne,

And iesteth at her diuination :

Ah to what vnbeliefe are Princes borne ?

(The onely ouer-throw of many a Nation :)
And so it did befall this lucklesse Prince,
Whom all the world hath much lamented since.

Insteede of teares, he smileth at her tale :
Insteede of griefe, he makes great shew of gladnes :
But after blisse, there euer followes bale ;
And after mirth, there alwaies commeth sadnes :

But gladnesse, blisse, and mirth had so possest him,
That sadnes, bale, and griefe could not molest him.

Oh cruell Parcce (quoth Cassandra then)

Why are you Parca, yet not mou'd with praier ?

Oh small security of mortall men,

That Hue on earth, and breathe this vitall aire :

When we laugh most, then are we next to sorrow ;

The Birds feede vs to-day, we them to-morrow.

But if the first did little moue his minde,
Her later speeches lesse with him preuailed ;
Who beinge wholy to selfe-will inclinde,
Deemes her weake braine with lunacy assailed :
And still the more shee councels him to stay,
The more he striueth to make haste away.

How on the Seas he scap'd stormes, rocks and sholes,
(Seas that enuide the conquest he had wone,
Gaping like hell to swallow Greekish soules,)
I heere omit ; onely suppose it done :

His storm-tyrde Barke safely brings him to shore,
His whole Fleete els, or suncke or lost before.

Lift vp thy head, thou ashie-cyndred Troy,
See the commaunder of thy traitor foes,
That made thy last nights woe, his first daies ioie,
Now gins his night of ioy and daie of woes :
His fall be thy delight, thine was his pride :
As he thee then, so now thou him deride.

R'jEaTS.] CASSANDRA. 77

He and Cassandra now are set on shore,
Which he salutes with ioy, she greetes with teares,
Currors are sent that poast to Court before,
Whose tidings fill th'adultrous Queene with feares,
Who with JEgistus in a lust-staind bed,
Her selfe, her King, her State dishonored.

She wakes the lecher with a loud-strain'd shrike,
Loue-toies they leaue, now doth lament begin :
He flie (quoth he) but she doth that mislike,
Guilt vnto guilt, and sinne she ads to sinne :

Shee meanes to kill (immodest loue to couer)

A kingly husband, for a caytiue louer.

The peoples ioies, conceiued at his returne,
Their thronging multitudes : their gladsome cries,
Their gleeful hymnes, whiles piles of incense burne :
Their publique shewes, kept at solemnities :

We passe : and tell how King and Queene did meet,
Where he with zeale, she him with guile did greet.

He (noble Lord) fearelesse of hidden treason,
Sweetely salutes this weeping Crocodile :
Excusing euery cause with instant reason
That kept him from her sight so long a while :
She, faintly pardons him ; smiling by Art :
(For life was in her lookes, death in her hart.)

For pledge that I am pleas'd receiue (quoth shee)
This rich wrought robe, thy Clytemnestras toile :
Her ten yeeres worke this day shall honour thee,
For ten yeeres war, and one daies glorious spoile :
Whil'st thou contendedst there, I heere did this :
Weare it my loue, my life, my ioy, my blisse.

Scarce had the Syren said what I haue write,

But he (kind Prince) by her milde words misled,

Receiu'd the robe, to trie if it were fit ;

(The robe) that had no issue for his head ;
Which, whilst he vainly hoped to haue found,
jEgistits pierst him with a mortal wound.
ENG. Sc/f. LIB. No. 14.

T8 CASSANDRA. [R- J^;

Oh how the Troyan Damzell was amazed
To see so fell and bloudy a Tragedie,
Performed in one Act ; she naught but gazed,
Vpon the picture ; whom shee dead did see,
Before her face : whose body she emballms,
With brennish teares, and sudden deadly qualms.

Faine would she haue fled backe on her swift horse
But Clytemnestra bad her be content,
Her time was com'n : now bootelesse vsd she force,
Against so many ; whom this Tygresse sent
To apprehend her : who (within one hower
Brought backe againe) was lockt within a Tower.

Now is she ioylesse, friendlesse, and (in fine)
Without all hope of further libertie :
Insteed of cates, cold water was her wine,
And Agamemnons corps her meate must be,
Or els she must for hunger starue (poore sole)
What could she do but make great mone and dole.

So darke the dungeon was, wherein she was,
That neither Sunne (by day) nor Mone (by night)
Did shew themselues : and thus it came to passe.
The Sunne denide to lend his glorious light

To such a periur'd wight, or to be scene ;

(What neede she light, that ouer-light had bin ?)

Now silent night drew on ; when all things sleepe,
Saue theeves, and cares ; and now stil mid-night came :
When sad Cassandra did naught els but weepe ;
Oft calling on her Agamemnons name.
But seeing that the dead did not replie,
Thus she begins to mourne, lament, and crie.

Oh cruell Fortune (mother of despaire,)
Well art thou christen'd with a cruell name :
Since thou regardest not the wise, or faire,
But do'st bestow thy riches (to thy shame)

On fooles and lowly swaines, that care not for thee :
And yet I weepe, and yet thou. do'st abhorre me.

R' j£1£] CASSANDRA. 79

Fie on ambition, fie on filthy pride,
The roote of ill, the cause of all my woe :
On whose fraile yce my youth first slipt aside :
And falling downe, receiu'd a fatall blow.

Ah who hath liu'd to see such miserie

As I haue done, and yet I cannot die ?

I liu'd (quoth she) to see Troy set on fire :

I liu'd to see, renowned Hector slaine :

I liu'd to see, the shame of my desire :

And yet I Hue, to feel my grieuous paine :
Let all young maides example take by me,
To keepe their oathes, and spotlesse chastity.

Happy are they, that neuer liu'd to know

What 'tis to Hue in this world happily :

Happy are they which neuer yet felt woe :

Happy are they, that die in infancie :

Whose sins are cancell'd in their mothers wombe :
Whose cradle is their graue, whose lap their tomb.

Here ended shee ; and then her teares began,
That (Chorus-like) at euery word downe rained.
Which like a paire of christall fountaines ran,
Along her louely cheekes : with roses stained :
Which as they wither still (for want of raine)
Those siluer showers water them againe.

Now had the poore-mans clock (shrill chauntcleare)
Twice giuen notice of the Mornes approach,
(That then began in glorie to appeare,
Drawne in her stately colour'd saffron-Coach)

When shee (poore Lady) almost turn'd to teares,
Began to teare and rend her golden haires.

Lie there (quoth shee) the workers of my woes
You trifling toies, which my Hues staine haue bin :
You, by whose meanes our coines chiefly growes,
Clothing the backe with pride, the soule with sin :

Lie there (quoth shee) the causers of my care;

This said, her robes she all in pieces tare.

8o CASSANDRA.

Here-with, as weary of her wretched life,
(Which shee inioy'd with small felicitie)
She ends her fortune with a fatall knife ;
(First day of ioy, last day of miserie :)
Then why is death accounted Nature's foe,
Since death (indeed) is but the end of woe ?

For as by death, her bodie was released
From that strong prison made of lime and stone ;
Euen so by death her purest soule was eased,
From bodies prison, and from endlesse mone :
Where now shee walkes in sweete Elysium
(The place for wrongful Death and Martirdum.)

FINIS.

|~R. Barnfield.
L Jan. 1595.

The Encomion of Lady Pecunia :

The praife of Money.

queer enda pecunia primum esfy
Virtus post nummos. Horace.

By Richard Barnfeild, Graduate in Oxford.

LONDON,

Printed by G. S. for lohn laggard, and are

to be sold at his shoppe neere Temple -barre,

at the Signe of the Hand and starre.

To the Gentlemen Readers.

Entlemen, being incouraged through your gentle
acceptance of my Cynthia, I haue once more ad-
uentured on your Curtesies : hoping to finde you
(as I haue done heretofore) friendly. Being
determined to write of somthirg, and yet not
resolued of any thing, I considered with my selfe, if one
should write of Loue (they will say) why, euery one writes of
Loue : if of Vertue, why, who regards Vertue ? To be short,
I could thinke of nothing, but either it was common, or not at
all in request. At length I bethought my selfe of a Subiect,
both new (as hauing neuer beene written vpon before) and
pleasing (as I thought) because Mans Nature (commonly)
loues to heare that praised, with whose pressence, hee is most
pleased.

Erasmus (the glory of Netherland, and the refiner of the
Latin Tongue) wrote a whole Booke, in the prayse of Folly.
Then if so excellent a Scholler, writ in praise of Vanity, why
may not I write in praise of that which is profitable ? There
are no two Countreys, where Gold is esteemed, lesse than in
India, and more then in England : the reason is, because the
Indians are barbarous, and our Nation ciuill.

I have giuen Pecunia the title of a Woman, Both for the
termination of the Word, and because (as Women are) shee
is lov'd of men. The brauest Voyages in the World, haue
beene made for Gold : for it, men haue venterd (by Sea) to
the furthest parts of the Earth : In the Pursute whereof,
Englands Nestor and Neptune (Haukins and Drake} lost their

84 To the Gentlemen Readers. [R>

Barnfield.
1598.

Hues. Vpon the Deathes of the which two, of the first I
writ this :

The Waters were his Winding sheete, the Sea was made his Toome ;
Yet for his fame the Ocean Sea, was not sufficient roome.

Of the latter this :

England his hart ; his Corps the Waters haue ;
And that which raysd his fame, became his grave.

The Prcetorians (after the death of Pertinax) in the election
of a new Emperour, more esteemed the money of lulianus,
then either the vertue of Seuerus, or the Valour of Pessennins.
Then of what great estimation and account, this Lady
Pecunia, both hath beene in the Worlde, and is at this present,
I leaue to your Judgement. But what speake I so much of
her praise in my Epistle, that haue commended her so at
large in my Booke ? To the reading wherof, (Gentlemen) I
referre you.

[THE AUTHORS FIRST EPISTLE-
DEDICATORY (1605).

[Collated with the Bridgwater House copy.]
'Ed by the swift report of winged Fame,

With siluer trumpet, sounding forth your name
To you I dedicate this merry Muse,
And for my Patron, I your fauour chuse :
She is a Lady, she must be respected :
e^ is a Queene, she may not be neglected.
This is the shadow, you the substance haue,
Which substance now this shadow seems to craue,

RICHARD BARNFIELD.]

The prayse of Lady Pecunia.

Sing not of Angellica the faire,

(For whom the Palladine of Fraunce fell

mad)

Nor of sweet Rosamond, olde Cliffords heire,
(Whose death did make the second Henry

sad)

But of the fairest Faire Pecunia,
The famous Queene of rich America.

Goddesse of Golde, great Empresse of the Earth,
O thou that canst doe all Thinges vnder Heauen :
That doost conuert the saddest minde to Mirth ;
(Of whom the elder Age was quite bereauen)

Of thee He sing, and in thy Prayse He write ;

You golden Angels helpe me to indite.

You, you alone, can make my Muse to speake ;

And tell a golden Tale, with siluer Tongue :

You onely can my pleasing silence breake ;

And adde some Musique, to a merry Songue :
But amongst all the fiue, in Musicks Art,
I would not sing the Counter-tenor part.

The Meane is best, and that I meane to keepe ;

So shall I keepe my selfe from That I meane :

Lest with some Others, I be forc'd to weepe,

And cry Peccaui, in a dolefull Scsene.
But to the matter which I haue in hand,
The Lady Regent, both by Sea and Land.

86 The prayse of [R- Bar"J

When Satiirne liu'd, and wore the Kingly Crovvne,
(And lone was yet vnborne, but not vnbred)
This Ladies fame was then of no renowne ;
(For Golde was then, no more esteem'd then Lead)
Then Truth and Honesty were onely vs'd,
Siluer and Golde were vtterly refus'd.

But when the Worlde grew wiser in Conceit,
And saw how Men in manners did decline,
How Charitie began to loose her heate,
And One did at anothers good repine,

Then did the Aged, first of all respect her ;

And vowd from thenceforth, neuer to reiect her.

Thus with the Worlde, her beauty did increase ;
And manie Suters had she to obtaine her :
Some sought her in the Wars, and some in peace ;
But few of youthfull age, could euer gaine her :

Or if they did, she soone was gone againe ;

And would with them, but little while remaine.

For why against the Nature of her Sexe,

(That commonlie dispise the feeble Olde)

Shee, loues olde men ; but young men she reiects ;

Because to her, their Loue is quicklie colde :

Olde men (like Husbands iealous of their Wiues)
Lock her vp fast, and keepe her as their Liues.

The young man carelesse to maintaine his life,
Neglects her Loue (as though he did abhor her)
Like one that hardly doeth obtaine a wife,
And when he hath her once, he cares not for her :
Shee, seeing that the young man doeth despyse her,
Leaues the franke heart, and flies vnto the Myser.

Hee intertaines her, with a ioyfull hart ;

And seemes to rue her vndeserued wrong :

And from his Pressence, she shall neuer part ;

Or if shee doo, he thinkes her Absence long :
And oftentimes he sends for her againe,
Whose life without her, cannot long remaine.

R. Barnfield.-j £^ PeCUHia. 87

And when he hath her, in his owne possession,

He locks her in an iron-barred Chest,

And doubting somewhat, of the like Transgression,

He holds that iron-walled Prison best.

And least some rusty sicknesse should infect her,
He often visits her, and doeth respect her.

As for the young man (subiect vnto sinne)
No maruell though the Diuell doe distresse him ;
To tempt mans frailtie, which doth neuer linne,
Who many times, hath not a Crosse to blesse him :
But how can hee incurre the Heauens Curse,
That hath so many Crosses in his Purse ?

Hee needes not feare those wicked sprights, that waulke
Vnder the Couerture of cole-blacke Night ;
For why the Diuell still, a Crosse doeth baulke,
Because on it, was hangd the Lorde of Light :
But let not Mysers trust to siluer Crosses,
Least in the End, their gaines be turnd to losses.

But what care they, so they may hoorde vp golde ?

Either for God, or Diuell, or Heauen, or Hell ?

So they may faire Pecuniaes face behold ;

And euery Day, their Mounts of Money tell.

What tho to count their Coyne, they neuer blin,
Count they their Coyne, and counts not God their sin ?

But what talke I of sinne, to Vsurers ?

Or looke for mendment, at a Mysers hand ?

Pecunia, hath so many followers,

Bootlesse it is, her Power to with-stand.
King Couetise, and Warinesse his Wife,
The Parents were, that first did giue her Life.

But now vnto her Praise I will proceede,
Which is as ample, as the Worlde is wide :
What great Contentment doth her Pressence breede
In him, that can his wealth with Wysdome guide ?
She is the Soueraigne Queene, of all Delights :
For her the Lawyer pleades ; the Souldier fights.

88 The prayse of [J

For her, the Merchant venters on the Seas :

For her, the Scholler studdies at his Booke :

For her, the Vsurer (with greater ease)

For sillie fishes, layes a siluer hooke :

For her, the Townsman leaues the Countrey Village :
For hsr, the Plowman giues himselfe to Tillage.

For her, the Gentlemen doeth raise his rents :

For her, the Seruingman attends his maister :

For her, the curious head new toyes inuents :

For her, to Sores, the Surgeon layes his plaister.

In fine for her, each man in his Vocation,

Applies himselfe, in euerie sev'rall Nation.

What can thy hart desire, but thou mayst haue it,
If thou hast readie money to disburse ?
Then thanke thy Fortune, that so freely gaue it ;
For of all friends, the surest is thy purse.

Friends may proue false, and leaue thee in thy need ;

But still thy Purse will bee thy friend indeed.

Admit thou come, into a place vnknowne ;

And no man knowes, of whence, or what thou art :

If once thy faire Pecunia, shee be showne,

Thou art esteem'd a man of great Desart :

And placed at the Tables vpper ende ;

Not for thine owne sake, but thy faithfull frende.

But if you want your Ladies louely grace,
And haue not wherewithall to pay your shot,
Your Hostis pressently will step in Place,
You are a Stranger (Sir) I know you not :

By trusting Diuers, I am run in Det ;

Therefore of mee, nor meate nor Bed you get.

O who can then, expresse the worthie praise,

Which faire Pecunia iustly doeth desarue ?

That can the meanest man, to Honor raise ;

And feed the soule, that ready is to starue.
Affection, which was wont to bee so pure,
Against a golden Siege, may not endure.

R. BarnfiehL-j Z^ PcCUHia. 89

Witnesse the trade of Mercenary sinne ;

(Or Occupation, if thou list to tearme it)

Where faire Pecunia must the suite beginne ;

(As common-tride Experience doeth confirme it)
Not Mercury himselfe, with siluer Tongue,
Can so inchaunt, as can a golden Songue.

When nothing could subdue the Phrygian Troy,
(That Citty through the world so much renowned)
Pecunia did her vtterly destroy :
And left her fame, in darke Obliuion drowned.
And many Citties since, no lesse in fame,
For Loue of her, haue yeelded to their shame.

What Thing is then, so well belou'd as money ?
It is a speciall Comfort to the minde ;
More faire then Women are ; more sweet then honey:
Easie to loose, but very harde to finde.

In fine, to him, whose Purse beginns to faint,

Golde is a God, and Siluer is a Saint.

The Tyme was once, when Honestie was counted
A Demy god ; and so esteem'd of all :
But now Pecunia on his Seate is mounted ;
Since Honestie in great Disgrace did fall.

No state, no Calling now, doeth him esteeme ;

Nor of the other ill, doeth any deeme.

The reason is, because he is so poore :
(And who respects the poore, and needie Creature ?)
Still begging of his almes, from Doore to Doore :
All ragd, and torne ; and eeke deformed in feature.

In Countinance so changde, that none can know him;

So weake, and euery vice doeth ouerthrow him.

But faire Pecunia, (most diuinely bred)

For sundrie shapes, doth Proteus selfe surpasse :

In one Lande, she is suted all in Lead ;

And in another, she is clad in Brasse :

But still within the Coast of Albion,

She euer puts, her best Apparell on.

9o The prayse of [R- B

Siluer and Golde, and nothing else is currant,
In Englands, in faire Englands happy Land :
All baser sorts of Mettalls, haue no Warrant ;
Yet secretly they slip, from hand to hand.
If any such be tooke, the same is lost,
And pressently is nayled on a Post.

Which with Quick-siluer, being flourisht ouer,
Seemes to be perfect Siluer, to the showe :
As Woemens paintings, their defects doe couer,
Vnder this false attyre, so doe they goe.
If on a woollen Cloth, thou rub the same,
Then will it straight beginne to blush, for shame.

If chafed on thy haire, till it be hot,
If it good Siluer bee, the scent is sweete :
If counterfeit, thy chafing hath begot
A ranke-smelt sauour ; for a Queene vnmeete :
Pecunia is a Queene, for her Desarts,
And in the Decke, may goe for Queene of harts.

The Queene of harts, because she rules all harts ;
And hath all harts, obedient to her Will :
Whose Bounty, fame vnto the Worlde imparts ;
And with her glory, all the Worlde doeth fill :

The Queene of Diamonds, she cannot bee ;

There is but one, ELIZA, thou art shee.

And thou art shee, O sacred Soueraigne ;
Whom God hath helpt with his Al-mighty hand :
Blessing thy People, with thy peacefull raigne ;
And made this little Land, a happy Land :

May all those Hue, that wish long life to thee,

And all the rest, perish eternally.

Thy tyme was once, when faire Pecunia, here
Did basely goe attyred all in Leather :
But since her raigne, she neuer did appeere
But richly clad ; in Golde, or Siluer either:
Nor reason is it, that her Golden raigne
With baser Coyne, eclypsed should remaine.

R. Barnfi«

Lady Pecunia. 91

And as the Coyne, she hath repurifyde,
From baser substance, to the purest Mettels:
Religion so, hath shee refinde beside,
From Papistrie, to Truth ; which daily settles

Within her Peoples harts ; though some there bee,
That cleaue vnto their wonted Papistrie.

No flocke of sheepe, but some are still infected :
No peece of Lawne so pure, but hath some fret :
All buildings are not strong, that are erected :
All Plants proue not, that in good ground are set :
Some tares are sowne, amongst the choicest seed :
No garden can be cleansd of euery Weede.

But now to her, whose praise is her pretended,
(Diuine Pecunia) fairer then the morne :
Which cannot be sufficiently commended ;
Whose Sun-bright Beauty doeth the Worlde adorne,

Adorns the World, but specially the Purse ;

Without whose pressence, nothing can be worse.

Not faire Hasione (King of Priams sister)
Did euer showe more Beauty, in her face,
Then can this louely Lady, if it list her
To showe her selfe ; admir'd for comely grace :

Which neither Age can weare, nor Tyme conclude ;

For why, her Beauty yeerely is renude.

New Coyne is coynd each yeare, within the Tower ;
So that her Beauty neuer can decay :
Which to resist, no mortall man hath Power,
When as she doeth her glorious Beames display.
Nor doeth Pecunia f onely please the eie,
But charms the eare, with heauenly Harmonic.

Lyke to an other Orpheus, can she play
Vpon her treble Harpe, whose siluer sound
Inchaunts the eare, and steales the hart away:
Nor hardly can deceit, therein be found.
Although such Musique, some a Shilling cost,
Yet is it worth but Nine-pence, at the most.

92 The prayse of [R- BarnS

Had I the sweet inchaunting Tongue of Tully,

That charmd the hearers, lyke the Syrens Song ;

Yet could I not describe the Prayses fully,

Which to Pecunia iustly doe belong.
Let it suffice, her Beauty doeth excell :
Whose praise no Pen can paint, no Tongue can tell.

Then how shall I describe, with artlesse Pen,
The praise of her, whose praise, all praise surmounteth ?
Breeding amazement, in the mindes of men :
Of whom, this pressent Age to much accounteth.
Varietie of Words, would sooner want,
Then store of plentious matter, would be scant.

Whether yee list, to looke into the Citty :
(Where money tempts the poore Beholders eye)
Or to the Countrey Townes, deuoyde of Pitty :
(Where to the poore, each place doeth almes denye)
All Thinges for money now, are bought and solde,
That either hart can thinke, or eie beholde.

Nay more for money (as report doeth tell)
Thou mayst obteine a Pardon for thy sinnes :
The Pope of Rome, for money will it sell ;
(Whereby thy soule, no small saluation winnes)
But how can hee, (of Pride the chiefe Beginner)
Forgiue thy sinnes, that is himselfe a sinner ?

Then, sith the Pope is subiect vnto sinne,
No maruell tho, diuine Pecunia tempt him,
With her faire Beauty ; whose good-will to winne,
Each one contends ; and shall we then exempt him.
Did neuer mortall man, yet looke vpon her,
But straightwaies he became, enamourd on her.

Yet would I wish, the Wight that loues her so,
And hath obtain'd, the like good-will againe,
To vse her wisely, lest she proue his foe ;
And so, in stead of Pleasure, breed his paine.
She may be kyst ; but shee must not be clypt :
Lest such Delight in bitter gall be dypt.

R. Barnfield.-] £^ p^niO. 93

The iuyce of grapes, which is a soueraigne Thing
To cheere the hart, and to reuiue the spirits ;
Being vsde immoderatly (in surfetting)
Rather Dispraise, then commendation merits :

Euen so Pecunia, is, as shee is vsed ;

Good of her selfe, but bad if once abused.

With her, the Tenant payes his Landlords rent :

On her, depends the stay of euery state :

To her, rich Pressents euery day are sent :

In her, it rests to end all dire Debate :
Through her, to Wealth, is raisd the Countrey Boore :
From her, proceedes much promt to the poore.

Then how can I, sufficiently commend,
Her Beauties worth, which makes the World to wonder ?
Or end her prayse, whose prayses haue no End ?
Whose absence brings the stoutest stomack vnder :

Let it suffice, Pecunia hath no peere ;

No Wight, no Beauty held ; more faire, more deere.

FtNIS.

His Prayer to Pecunia.

Reat Lady, sith I haue complyde thy Prayse,
(According to my skill and not thy merit :)
And sought thy Fame aboue the starrs to rayse ;
(Had I sweete Ovids vaine, or Virgils spirit)
I craue no more but this, for my good will,
That in my Want, thou wilt supplye me still.

ENG. Sen. LIB. tto. 14.

THE

Complaint of Poetrie,

for the Death of Liberalitie.

Vitdt fast funera -virtus.

LONDON,

Printed by G. S. for lohn laggard, and are

to be solde at his shoppe neere Temple-barre,

at the Signe of the Hand and starre.

1598.

To his Worshipfull wel-willer, Maister

Edward Leigh, of Grayes Inne.

Mage of that, whose losse is here lamented ;

(In whom, so many vertues are containd)
SJDaine to accept, what I haue now presented.

Though Bounties death, herein be not fained,
In your mind, she not reuiue (with speed)
Then will I sweare, that shee is dead indeed.

THE COMPLAINT OF
Poetrie, for the Death of Liberalitie.

Eepe Heauens now, for you haue lost your

light ;
Ye Sunne and Moone, beare witnes of my

mone :
The cleere is turnd to clouds ; the day to

night ;

And all my hope, and all my ioy is gone :
Bounty is dead, the cause of my annoy ;
Bounty is dead, and with her dide my ioy.

0 who can comfort my afflicted soule ?

Or adde some ende to my increasing sorrowes ?
Who can deliuer me from endlesse dole ?
(Which from my hart eternall torment borrowes.)

When Bounty liu'd, I bore the Bell away ;

When Bounty dide, my credit did decay.

1 neuer then, did write one verse in vaine ;
Nor euer went my Poems vnregarded :
Then did each Noble breast, me intertaine,
And for my Labours I was well rewarded :

But now Good wordes, are stept in Bounties place,
Thinking thereby, her glorie to disgrace.

R. Barnfield.

The Complaint of Poetrie. 99

But who can Hue with words, in these hard tymes ?
(Although they came from lupiter himselfe ?)
Or who can take such Paiment, for his Rymes ?
(When nothing now, is so esteem'd as Pelfe ?)

Tis not Good wordes, that can a man maintaine ;

Wordes are but winde ; and winde is all but vaine.

Where is Mecanas, Learnings noble Patron ?

(That Maroes Muse, with Bountie so did cherish ?)

Or faire Zenobia, that worthy Matron ?

(Whose name, for Learnings Loue, shall neuer perish)
What tho their Bodies, lie full lowe in graue,
Their fame the worlde; their souls the Heauens haue.

Vile Auaricia, how hast thou inchaunted
The Noble mindes, of great and mightie Men ?
Or what infernall furie late hath haunted
Their niggard purses ? (to the learned pen)

Was it Augustus wealth, or noble minde,

That euerlasting fame, to him assinde ?

If wealth ? Why Crcesus was more rich then hee ;

(Yet Crcesus glorie, with his life did end)

It was his Noble mind, that moued mee

To write his praise, and eeke his Acts commend.
Who ere had heard, of Alexanders fame,
If Quintus Curtius had not pend the same ?

Then sith by mee, their deedes haue been declared,
(Which else had perisht with their Hues decay)
Who to augment their glories, haue not spared
To crowne their browes, with neuer-fading Bay :

What Art deserues such Liberalitie,

As doeth the peerlesse Art of Poetrie ?

But Liberalitie is dead and gone :

And Auarice vsurps true Bounties seat.

For her it is, I make this endlesse mone,

(Whose praises worth no men can well repeat.
Sweet Liberalitie adiew for euer,
For Poetrie againe, shall see thee neuer.

ioo The Complaint of Poetrie, [R- *""£

Neuer againe, shall I thy presence see :
Neuer againe, shal I thy bountie tast :
Neuer againe, shal I accepted bee :
Neuer againe, shall I be so embrac't :

Neuer againe, shall I the bad recall :

Neuer againe, shall I be lou'd of all :

Thou wast the Nurse, whose Bountie gaue me sucke :
Thou wast the Sunne, whose beames did lend me light
Thou wast the Tree, whose fruit I still did plucke :
Thou wast the Patron, to maintaine my right :

Through thee I liu'd ; on thee I did relie ;

In thee I ioy'd ; and now for thee I die.

What man, hath lately lost a faithfull frend ?
Or Husband, is depriued of his Wife ?
But doth his after-daies in dolour spend ?
(Leading a loathsome, discontented life ?)

Dearer then friend, or wife, haue I forgone ;

Then maruell not, although I make such mone.

Faire Philomela, cease 'thy sad complaint;
And lend thine eares, vnto my dolefull Ditty :
(Whose soule with sorrowe, now begins to faint,
And yet I cannot moue mens hearts to pitty :)
Thy woes are light, compared vnto mine :
You waterie Nymphes, to mee your plaints resigne.

And thou Melpomene, (the Muse of Death)
That neuer sing'st, but in a dolefull straine ;
Sith cruell Destinie hath stopt her breath,
(Who whilst she liu'd, was Vertues Soueraigne
Leaue Hellicon, (whose bankes so pleasant bee)
And beare a part of sorrowe now with mee.

The Trees (for sorrowe) shead their fading Leaues,
And weepe out gum, in stead of other teares ;
Comfort nor ioy, no Creature now conceiues,
To chirpe and sing, each little bird forbeares.

The sillie Sheepe, hangs downe his drooping head,
And all because, that Bounty she is dead.

R. Barnfield."

for the death of Liberalitie. 101

The greater that I feele my griefe to be,

The lesser able, am I to expresse it ;

Such is the nature of extremitie,

The heart it som-thing eases, to confesse it.

Therefore He wake my muse, amidst her sleeping,
And what I want in wordes, supplie with weeping.

Weepe still mine eies, a Riuer full of Teares,
To drowne my Sorrowe in, that so molests me ;
And rid my head of cares ; my thoughts of feares :
Exiling sweet Content, that so detests me.
But ah (alas) my Teares are almost dun,
And yet my griefe, it is but new begun.

Euen as the Sunne, when as it leaues our sight,
Doth shine with those Antipodes, beneath vs ;
Lending the other worlde her glorious light,
And dismall Darknesse, onely doeth bequeath vs :
Euen so sweet Bountie, seeming dead to mee,
Liues now to none, but smooth-Tongd Flatterie.

O Adulation, Canker-worme of Truth ;
The flattring Glasse of Pride, and Self-conceit :
(Making olde wrinkled Age, appeare like youth)
Dissimulations Maske, and follies Beate :
Pittie it is, that thou art so rewarded,
Whilst Truth and Honestie, goe vnregarded.

O that Nobilitie, it selfe should staine,
In being bountifull, to such vile Creatures :
Who, when they flatter most, then most they faine ;
Knowing what humor best, will fit their Natures.
What man so mad, that knowes himselfe but pore,
And will beleeue that he hath riches store.

Vpon a time, the craftie Foxe did flatter
The foolish Pye (whose mouth was full of meate)
The Pye beleeuing him, began to chatter,
And sing for ioy, (not hauing list to eate)

And whil'st the foolish Pye, her meate let fall,
The craftie Foxe, did runne awaie with all.

T02 The Complaint of Poetriey [R- Barn*

Terence describeth vnder Gnatoes name,
The right conditions of a Parasyte :
(And with such Eloquence, sets foorth the same,
As doeth the learned Reader much delyght)
Shewing, that such a Sycophant as Gnato,
In more esteem'd, then twentie such a Plato.

Bounty looke backe, vpon thy goods mispent ;

And thinke how ill, thou hast bestow'd thy mony :

Consider not their wordes, but their intent ;

Their hearts are gall, although their tongues be hony
They speake not as they thinke, but all is fained,
And onely to th'intent to be maintained.

And herein happie, I arcade the poore ;
No flattring Spanyels, fawne on them for meate :
The reason is, because the Countrey Boore
Hath little enough, for himselfe to eate :

No man will flatter him, except himselfe ;

And why ? because hee hath no store of wealth.

But sure it is not Liberalitie

That doeth reward these fawning smel-feasts so :

It is the vice of Prodigalitie,

That doeth the Bankers of Bounty over-flo :

Bounty is dead : yea so it needes must bee ;

Or if aliue, yet is shee dead to mee.

Therefore as one, whose friend is lately dead,
I will bewaile the death, of my deere frend ;
Vppon whose Tombe, ten thousand Teares He shead,
Till drearie Death, of mee shall make an end :
Or if she want a Toombe, to her desart,
Oh then, He burie her within my hart.

But (Bounty] if thou loue a Tombe of stone,
Oh then seeke out, a hard and stonie hart :
For were mine so, yet would it melt with mone,
And all because, that I with thee must part.

Then, if a stonie hart must thee interr,

Goe finde a Step-dame, or a Vsurer.

R. Ban.fiew.-j y^ fa death Of LiberaliUc. 103

And sith there dies no Wight, of great account,

But hath an Epitaph compos'd by mee,

Bounty ', that did all other far surmount,

Vpon her Tombe, this Epitaph shall bee :

Here lies the Wight, that Learning did maintaine,
And at the last, by AVARICE was slaine.

Vile Auarice, why hast thou kildd my Deare ?

And robd the World, of such a worthy Treasure ?

In whome no sparke of goodnesse doth appeare,

So greedie is thy mind, without all measure,
Thy death, from Death did merit to release her :
The Murtherers deseru'd to die, not Caesar.

The Merchants wife ; the Tender-hearted Mother
That leaues her loue ; whose Sonne is prest for warre ; .
(Resting, the one ; as woefull as the other ;)
Hopes met at length, when ended is the iarre,

To see her Husband ; see her Sonne again ;

" Were it not then for Hope, the hart were slaine."

But I, whose hope is turned to despaire
Nere looke to see my dearest Deare againe :
Then Pleasure sit thou downe, in Sorrowes Chaire,
And (for a while) thy wonted Mirth refraine.
Bounty is dead, that whylome was my Treasure,
Bounty is dead, my joy and onely pleasure.

If Pythias death, of Damon were bewailed ;

Or Pillades did rue, Orestes ende :

If Hercules, for Hylas losse were quailed ;

Or Theseus, for Pyrithous Teares did spende :
When doe I mourne for Bounty, being dead :
Who liuing, was my hand, my hart, my head.

My hand, to helpe mee, in my greatest need :
My hart, to comfort mee, in my distresse :
My head, whom onely I obeyd, indeed :
If she were such, how can my griefe be lesse ?

Perhaps my wordes, may pierce the Parcce's eares ;

If not with wordes, He moue them with my teares.

104 The Complaint of Poetrie, [R>

BarnfieM.
1598.

But ah (alas) my Teares are spent in vaine,
(For she is dead, and I am left aliue)
Teares cannot call, sweet Bounty backe againe ;
Then why doe I, gainst Fate and Fortune striue ?

And for her death, thus weepe, lament, and crie ;

Sith euery mortall wight, is borne to die.

But as the woefull mother doeth lament,
Her tender babe, with cruell Death opprest :
Whose life was spotlesse, pure, and innocent,
(And therefore sure, it[s] soule is gone to rest)
So Bountie, which her selfe did vpright keepe,
Yet for her losse, loue cannot chuse but weepe.

The losse of her, is losse to many a one :
The losse of her, is losse vnto the poore :
And therefore not a losse, to mee alone,
But vnto such, as goe from Doore to Doore.

Her losse, is losse vnto the fatherlesse ;

And vnto all, that are in great distresse.

The maimed Souldier, comming from the warre ,
The woefull wight, whose house was lately burnd ;
The sillie soule ; the wofull Traueylar ;
And all, whom Fortune at her feet hath spurnd ;

Lament the losse of Liberalitie :

"Its ease, to haue in griefe some Companie."

The Wife of Hector (sad Andromache)
Did not bewaile, her husbands death alone :
But (sith he was the Troians onely stay)
The wiues of Troy (for him) made aequall mone.
Shee, shead the teares of Loue ; and they of pittie :
Shee, for her deare dead Lord ; they, for their Cittie.

Nor is the Death of Liberalitie,

(Although my griefe be greater than the rest)

Onely lamented, and bewaild of mee ;

(And yet of mee, she was beloued best)
But, sith she was so bountifull to all,
She is lamented, both of great and small.

R< BarniSe9d8:l for the death of Liberalitie. 105

O that my Teares could moue the powres diuine,
That Bountie might be called from the dead :
As Pitty pierc'd the hart of Proserpine ;
Who (moued with the Teares Admetus shead)

Did sende him backe againe, his louing Wife ;

Who lost her owne, to saue her husbands life.

Impartiall Parca, will no prayers moue you ?
Can Creatures so diuine, haue stony harts?
Haplesse are they, whose hap it is to proue you,
For you respect no Creatures good Desarts.

0 A tropos, (the cruelst of the three)

Why hast thou tane, my faithfull friend from mee ?

But ah, she cannot (or shee will not) heare me,
Or if shee doo, yet may not she repent her :
Then come (sweet Death) O why doest thou forbeare me ?
Aye mee ! thy Dart is blunt, it will not enter.
Oh now I knowe the cause, and reason why ;

1 am immortall, and I cannot dye.

So Cythercea would haue dide, but could not ;
When faire Adonis by her side lay slaine :
So I desire the Sisters, what I should not ;
For why (alas) I wish for Death in vaine ;

Death is their seruant, and obeys their will ;

And if they bid him spare, he cannot kill.

Oh would I were, as other Creatures are ;

Then would I die, and so my griefe were ended :

But Death (against my will) my life doeth spare ;

(So little with the fates I am befrended)

Sith, when I would, thou doost my sute denie,
Vile Tyrant, when thou wilt, I will not die.

And Bounty, though her body thou hast slaine,
Yet shall her memorie remaine for euer :
For euer, shall her memorie remaine ;
Whereof no spitefull Fortune can bereaue her.

Then Sorrowe cease, and wipe thy weeping eye ;

For Fame shall Hue, when all the World shall dye.

FINIS.

io6

THE

Combat, betweene

Conscience and Couetousnesse,

in the minde of Man.

quid non mortalia pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames ? Virgil.

LONDON,

Printed by G. S. for lohn laggard, and are

to be solde at his shoppe neere Temple-barre,

at the Signe of the Hand and starre.

109

To his Worshipfull good friend,

Maister lolm Steuenton, of Dothill, in the County
of Salop, Esquire.

Ith Conscience (long since) is exilde the Citty,
O let her in the Countrey, finde some Pitty :
But if she be exilde, the Countrey too,
O let her finde, some fauour yet of you.

ENG. Sctf. LIB. No. 14.

The Combat betweene Conscience

and Couetousnesse in the
mind of Man.

Ow had the cole-blacke steedes, of pitchie

Night,

(Breathing out Darknesse) banisht cheer-
full Light,

And sleepe (the shaddowe of eternall rest)
My seuerall senses, wholy had possest.
When loe, there was presented to my view,
A vision strange, yet not so strange, as true.
Conscience (me thought) appeared vnto mee,
Cloth'd with good Deedes, with Trueth and Honestie,
Her countinance demure, and sober sad,
Nor any other Ornament shee had.
Then Couetousnesse did incounter her,
Clad in a Cassock, lyke a Vsurer,
The Cassock, it was made of poore-mens skinnes,
Lac'd here and there, with many seuerall sinnes :
Nor was it furd, with any common furre ;
Or if it were, himselfe hee was the fur.
A Bag of money, in his hande he helde,
The which with hungry eie, he still behelde.
The place wherein this vision first began,
(A spacious plaine) was cald The Minde of Man.
The Carle no sooner, Conscience had espyde,
But swelling lyke a Toade, (puft vp with pryde)

R. Earnfieid/j Conscience and Couetousnesse. 1 1 1

He straight began against her to inuey :

These were the wordes, which Couetise did sey.

Conscience (quoth hee) how dar'st thou bee so bold,

To claime the place, that I by right doe hold ?

Neither by right, nor might, thou canst obtaine it :

By might (thou knowst full well) thou canst not gaine it

The greatest Princes are my followars,

The King in Peace, the Captaine in the Warres :

The Courtier, and the simple Countrey-man :

The ludge, the Merchant, and the Gentleman :

The learned Lawyer, and the Politician :

The skilfull Surgeon, and the fine Physician :

In briefe, all sortes of men mee entertaine,

And hold mee, as their Soules sole Soueraigne,

And in my quarrell, they will fight and die,

Rather then I should suffer iniurie.

And as for title, interest, and right,

lie proue its mine by that, as well as might,

Though Couetousnesse, were vsed long before,

Yet ludas Treason, made my Fame the more ;

When Christ he caused, crucifyde to bee,

For thirtie pence, man solde his minde to mee :

And now adaies, what tenure is more free,

Than that which purchas'd is, with Gold and fee ?

Conscience.

With patience, haue I heard thy large Complaint,
Wherein the Diuell, would be thought a Saint :
But wot ye what, the Saying is of olde ?
One tale is good, vntill anothers tolde.
Truth is the right, that I must stand vpon,
(For other title, hath poore Conscience none)
First I will proue it, by Antiquitie,
That thou art but an vp-start, vnto mee ;
Before that thou wast euer thought vpon,
The minde of Man, belongd to mee alone.
For after that the Lord, hath Man created,
And him in blisse-full Paradice had seated ;
(Knowing his Nature was to vice inclynde)
God gaue me vnto man, to rule his mynde,
And as it were, his Gouernour to bee,

H2 The Combat, betweene [R- Barnfield-

1593.

To guide his minde, in Trueth, and Honestie.

And where thou sayst, that man did sell his soule ;

That Argument, I quicklie can controule :

It is a fayned fable, thou doost tell,

That, which is not his owne, he cannot sell ;

No man can sell his sonle, altho he thought it :

Mans soule is Christs, for hee hath dearely bought it.

Therefore vsurping Couetise, be gone.

For why, the minde belongs to mee alone.

Couetousnesse.

Alas poore Conscience, how thou art deceav'd ?

As though of senses, thou wert quite bereaud.

What wilt thou say (that thinkst thou canst not erre)

If I can proue my selfe the ancienter?

Though into Adams minde, God did infuse thee,

Before his fall, 5ret man did neuer vse thee.

What was it else, but Aurice in Eue,

(Thinking thereby, in greater Blisse to Hue)

That made her taste, of the forbidden fruite ?

Of her Desier, was not I the roote ?

Did she not couet ? (tempted by the Deuill)

The Apple of the Tree, of good and euill ?

Before man vsed Conscience, she did couet:

Therefore by her Transgression, here I proue it,

That Couetousnesse possest the minde of man,

Before that any Conscience began.

Conscience.

Euen as a counterfeited precious stone,

Seemes to bee far more rich, to looke vpon,

Then doeth the right : But when a man comes neere,

His baseness then, doeth euident appeere :

So Couetise, the Reasons thou doost tell,

Seeme to be strong, but being weighed well,

They are indeed, but onely meere Illusions,

And doe inforce but very weake Conclusions.

When as the Lord (fore-knowing his offence)

Had giuen man a Charge, of Abstinence,

And to refraine, the fruite of good and ill :

Man had a Conscience, to obey his will,

nfieki.-j Conscience and Couetousnesse. 1 1 3

And neuer would be tempted thereunto,

Vntill the Woeman, shee, did worke man woe.

And make him breake, the Lords Commaundement,

Which all Mankinde, did afterward repent :

So that thou seest, thy Argument is vaine,

And I am prov'd, the elder of the twaine.

Couetousnesse.

Fond Wretch, it was not Conscience, but feare,

That made the first man (Adam) to forbeare

To tast the fruite, of the forbidden Tree,

Lest, if offending hee were found to bee,

(According as lehouah saide on hye,

For his so great Transgression, hee should dye.)

Feare curbd his minde, it was not Conscience then,

(For Conscience freely, rules the harts of men)

And is a godly motion of the mynde,

To euerie vertuous action inclynde,

And not enforc'd, through feare of Punishment,

But is to vertue, voluntary bent :

Then (simple Trul) be packing presentlie,

For in this place, there is no roome for thee.

Conscience.

Aye mee (distressed Wight) what shall I doe ?
Where shall I rest ? Or whither shall I goe ?
Vnto the rich ? (woes mee) they, doe abhor me :
Vnto the poore ? (alas) they, care not for me :
Vnto the Olde-man ? hee ; hath mee forgot :
Vnto the Young-man ? yet hee, knowes me not :
Vnto the Prince ? hee ; can dispence with me :
Vnto the Magistrate ? that, may not bee :
Vnto the Court ? for it, I am too base :
Vnto the Countrey ? there, I haue no place :
Vnto the Citty ? thence ; I am exilde :
Vnto the Village ? there ; I am reuilde :
Vnto the Barre ? the Lawyer there, is bribed ?
Vnto the Warre ? there, Conscience is derided :
Vnto the Temple ? there, I am disguised :
Vnto the Market ? there, I am dispised :
Thus both the young and olde, the rich and poore,

1 1 4 Conscience and Couetousnesse. [Ri

Against mee (silly Creature) shut their doore.
Then, sith each one seekes my rebuke and shame,
He goe againe to Heauen (from whence I came.)

This saide (me thought) making exceeding mone,
She went her way, and left the Carle alone,
Who vaunting of his late-got victorie,
Aduanc'd himselfe in pompe and Maiestie :
Much like a Cocke, who hauing kild his foe,
Brisks vp himselfe, and then begins to crow.
So Coitetise, when Conscience was departed,
Gan to be proud in minde, and hauty harted :
And in a stately Chayre of state he set him,
(For Conscience banisht) there are none to let him.
And being but one entrie, to this Plaine,
(Whereof as king and Lord, he did remaine)
Repentance cald, he causd that to be kept,
Lest Conscience should returne, whilst as he slept :
Wherefore he causd it, to be watcht and warded
Both night and Day, and to be strongly guarded :
To keepe it safe, these three he did intreat,
. Hardnesse of hart, with Falshood and Deceat :
And if at any time, she chaunc'd to venter,
Hardnesse of hart, denide her still to enter.
When Conscience was exilde the minde of Man,
Then Couetise, his gouernment began.
This once being scene, what I had scene before,
(Being onely scene in sleepe) was scene no more ;
For with the sorrowe, which my Soule did take
At sight hereof, foorthwith I did awake.

FINIS.

Poems :

In diuers humors.

Trabit sua qiiemque voluptas. Virgil.

LONDON,

Printed by G. S. for lohn laggard, and are

to be solde at his shoppe neere Temple-barre,

at the Signe of the Hand and starre.

1598.

To the learned, and accomplisht Gentleman,

Maister Nicholas Blackleech,
of Grayes Inne.

O you, that know the tuch of true Conceat ;
(Whose many gifts I neede not to repeat)
I write these Lines ; fruits of vnriper yeares ;
Wherein my Muse no harder censure feares :
Hoping in gentle Worth, you will them take ;
Not for the gift, but for the giuers sake.

SONNET. I.

To his friend Maister R. L. In praise of
Musique and Poetrie.

F Musique and sweet Poetrie agree,
As they must needes (the Sister and the
Brother)

Then must the Loue be great, twixt thee

«
and mee,

Because thou lou'st the one, and I the

other.

Dowland to thee is deare ; whose heauenly tuch
Vpon the Lute, doeth rauish humaine sense :
Spenser to mee ; whose deepe Conceit is such,
As passing all Conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lou'st to heare the sweete melodious sound,
That Phcebus Lute (the Queene of Musique) makes :
And I in deepe Delight am chiefly drownd,
When as himselfe to singing he betakes.
One God is God of Both (as Poets faigne)
One Knight loues Both, and Both in thee remaine.

SON N E T. I I.
Against the Dispraysers of Poetrie.

Haucer is dead ; and Gower lyes in grave ;

The Earle of Surrey, long agoe is gone ;

Sir Philip Sidneis soule, the Heauens haue ;

George Gascoigne him beforne, was tomb'd in stone,
Yet, tho their Bodies lye full low in ground,

(As euery thing must dye, that earst was borne)

Their liuing fame, no Fortune can confound ;

Nor euer shall their Labours be forlorne.
And you, that discommend sweete Poetrie,

(So that the Subiect of the same be good)

Here may you see, your fond simplicitie ;

Sith Kings haue fauord it, of royall Blood.
The King of Scots (now liuing) is a Poet,
As his Lepanto, and his Furies shoe it.

A Remembrance of some English Poets.

lue Spenser euer, in thy Fairy Queene :
Whose like (for deepe Conceit) was neuer scene.
Crownd mayst thou bee, vnto thy more renowne,
(As King of Poets) with a Lawrell Crowne.

And Daniell, praised for thy sweet-chast Verse :
Whose Fame is grav'd on Rosamonds blacke Herse.
Still mayst thou Hue : and still be honored,
For that rare Worke, The White Rose and the Red.

And Drayton, whose wel-written Tragedies,
And sweete Epistles, soare thy fame to skies.
Thy learned Name, is aequall with the rest ;
Whose stately Numbers are so well addrest.

120

And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine,
(Pleasing the World) thy Praises doth obtaine.
Whose Venus, and whose Lucrece (sweete, and chaste)
Thy Name in fames immortall Booke haue plac't.
Liue euer you, at least in Fame Hue euer :
WTell may the Bodye dye, but Fame dies neuer.

An Ode.

S it fell vpon a Day,
In the merrie Month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade,
Which a groue of Myrtles made,
Beastes did leape, and Birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and Plants did spring :
Euery thing did banish mone,
Saue the Nightingale alone.
Shee (poore Bird) as all forlorne,
Leand her Breast vp-till a Thorne,
And there sung the dolefulst Ditty,
That to heare it was great Pitty.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry
Teru Teru, by and by :
That to heare her so complaine,
Scarce I could from Teares refraine :
For her griefes so liuely showne,
Made me thinke vpon mine owne.
Ah (thought I) thou mournst in vaine ;
None takes Pitty on thy paine :
Senslesse Trees, they cannot heere thee ;
Ruthlesse Beares, they wil not cheer thee.
King Pandion, hee is dead :
All thy friends are lapt in Lead.
All thy fellow Birds doe singe,
Carelesse of thy sorrowing.

121

Whilst as fickle Fortune smilde,
Thou and I, were both beguilde.
Euerie one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in miserie :
Words are easie, like the winde ;
Faithfull friends are hard to finde :
Euerie man will bee thy friend,
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend
But if store of Crownes be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigall,
Bountifull, they will him call.
And with such-like flattering,
Pitty but hee were a King.
If hee bee adict to vice,
Quickly him, they will intice.
If to Woemen hee be bent,
They haue at Commaundement.
But if Fortune once doe frowne,
Then farewell his great renowne :
They that fawnd on him before,
Vse his company no more.
Hee that is thy friend indeed,
Hee will helpe thee in thy neede :
If thou sorrowe, hee will weepe :
If thou wake, hee cannot sleepe :
Thus of euerie griefe, in hart,
Hee, with thee, doeth beare a Part.
These are certaine Signes, to knowe
Faithfull friend, from flatt'ring foe.

122

Written, at the Request of a Gentleman,

vnder a Gentlewoman's Picture.

'Uen as Apelles could not paint Campaspes face

aright :
.Because Campaspes Sun-bright eyes did dimme

Apelles sight :
Euen so, amazed at her sight, her sight, all sights

excelling,

Like Nyobe the Painter stoode, her sight his sight expelling,
Thus Art and Nature did contend, who should the Victor bee,
Till Art by Nature was supprest, as all the worlde may see.

An Epitaph vpon the Death, of Sir Philip

Sidney, Knight ; Lord-gouernour of Vlissing.

Hat England lost, that Learning lov'd, that euery

mouth commended,
That fame did prayse, that Prince did rayse, that

Countrey do defended,
Here lyes the man : lyke to the Swan, who know
ing shee shall die,

Doeth tuneher voice vnto the Spheares, and scornes Mortalitie.
Two worthie Earls his vncles were ; a Lady was his Mother ;
A Knight his father ; and himselfe a noble Countesse Brother.
Belov'd, bewaild ; aliue, now dead ; of all, with Teares for euer ;
Here lyes Sir Philip Sidneis Corps, whom cruell Death did

seuer,

He liv'd for her, hee dyde for her ; for whom he dyde, he liued :
O graunt (O God) that wee of her, may neuer be depriued.

123
An Epitaph vpon the Death of his Aunt,

Mistresse Elizabeth Skrymsher.

[Oe here beholde the certaine Ende, of euery liuing

wight :
No Creature is secure from Death, for Death

will haue his Right.
He spareth none : both rich and poore, both

young and olde must die ;
So fraile is flesh, so short is Life, so sure Mortalitie.
When first the Bodye Hues to Life, the soule first dies to

sinne :
And they that loose this earthly Life, a heauenly Life shall

winne,

If they Hue well: as well she liv'd, that lyeth Vnder heere;
Whose Vertuous Life to all the Worlde, most plainly did

appeere.

Good to the poore, friend to the rich, and foe to no Degree :
A President of modest Life, and peerelesse Chastitie.
Who louing more, Who more belov'd of euerie honest mynde?
Who more to Hospitalitie, and Clemencie inclinde
Then she ? that being buried here, lyes wrapt in Earth

below ;
From whence we came, to whom wee must, and bee as shee

is now,
A Clodd of Clay : though her pure soule in endlesse Blisse

doeth rest ;

loying all loy, the Place of Peace, prepared for the blest :
Where holy Angells sit and sing, before the King of Kings;
Not mynding worldly Vanities, but onely heavenly Things.
Vnto which loy, Vnto which Blisse, Vnto which Place of

Pleasure,
God graunt that wee may come at last, t' inioy that heauenly

Treasure.

Which to obtaine, to Hue as shce hath done let us endeuor ;
That wee may Hue with Christ himselfe, (above) that Hues

for euer.

124

A Comparison of the Life
of Man.

Ans life is well compared to a feast,
Furnisht with choice of all Varietie :
To it comes Tyme ; and as a bidden guest
Hee sets him downe, in Pompe and Maiestie ;
The three-folde Age of Man, the Waiters bee,
Then with an earthen voyder (made of clay)
Comes Death, and takes the table clean
away.

FINIS.

tJNWlN BROTHERS, THS GR8SHAM PRESS, CttlLWORTtt AND LONDON.

Barnfield, Richard
2209 Poems

B8A17
1382

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Full text of "Poems, 1594-1598. Editedby Edward Arber"

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